


Green

by RachelleRyan



Category: Static Shock
Genre: Drama, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-20
Updated: 2011-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-18 15:29:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 62,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RachelleRyan/pseuds/RachelleRyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Virgil and Richie leave Alva's private little island they find that being good Samaritans has some side effects. Long lasting side effects that open a *whole* nother can o'worms. WARNING SLASH.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Right Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Summary: After Virgil and Richie leave Alva's private little island they find that being good Samaritans has some side effects. Long lasting side effects that open a *whole* nother can o'worms. WARNING SLASH.

Disclaimer: I own *EVERYTHING*! Ha ha ha HA!... Shoot. Didn't believe that did you? *mutters* That's what I get for having such smart readers. *shrug* On with the usual. I own nothing. I have no money. Please don't waste your money suing because frustration is all you'll generate.

Summary: After Virgil and Richie leave Alva's private little island they find that being good Samaritans has some side effects. Long lasting side effects that open a *whole* nother can o'worms. WARNING SLASH.

Green

(Virgil's POV)

I looked at the long scrape of ugly army green paint that Hotstreak had left on the bricks and crumpled black railing that used to be the bars of someone's balcony and silently wondered if I was doing the right thing. Francis was right now flying into the sunset with a vehicle he could barely drive that had... well I wasn't sure if it was armed since during the long silent flight I couldn't make heads or tails of all the flashing buttons but- knowing Alva I'd bet on it. I was the superhero of this piece and I'm pretty sure the superhero isn't supposed to allow the bad guy to ride off with enough hardware to hold up a bank. Several banks.

There was a whisper of sound and I turned in time to see Talon take flight. I just watched her winging away into the darkness. My head was saying I should go after her; take her in, just like Francis, but my heart kept me rooted to the asphalt. They'd done good today. Remembering the searing heat that caressed my cheek when Hotstreak had threatened to fry me if we didn't turn around I revised that to mostly good. Besides who knows how long Alva's mad scientists had her for? I hadn't seen her around for a while. Might have just been her laying low, might not have been. Shivering at the thought I turned to Gear and Rubberbandman.

Gear. Richie. He'd gone out to a science seminar two days ago. Did he even make it to Metropolis? Or had Alva's pet science freaks grabbed him the moment he stepped out of the gas station. God I was scared when I saw him strapped to that table. I took a step towards my friend overcome with the desired to run my hands over him to make sure nothing was out of place, ripped, or bruised. If Alva's goons had given him so much as a scraped knee I was going to throw the greedy CEO out a window damn the good guy rules. Richie just looked at me, eyes wide. I couldn't identify what was shining out at me from those depths. Somehow it made me feel warm and fuzzy yet just as scared as I'd felt back at Alva's little compound.

"Thanks for the rescue Static." Rubberbandman's wry comment broke through the spell. I released a necessary breath I hadn't realized I was holding and looked at my one time nemesis.

He looked a little worn around the edges but a whole lot more relaxed than his usual slightly hostile slightly superior attitude. Maybe he was finally starting to let go of his anger. ^Wow look at the flying piggies mommy.^ "It was no prob." My voice was full of my usual cheer as I made a dismissing motion with my right hand. Adam gave me a nod and started off in the direction of his apartment. He was hard to spot in his new costume, and I imagine that was the point, besides the much better look. Part of me was amused that I knew exactly where he lived and another annoyed at my paranoia. I knew RB wasn't going to go bad again, Sharon would beat him to death if he even tried, but I'd still gone out of my way to make sure I knew where the reformed rapper lived. It made me feel sort of guilty especially since the guy seemed to trust me more these days. Some times being a superhero sucked.

Turning back to Richie I was both relieved and oddly disappointed that the intensity from before didn't return. Richie gave me an easy grin. "I don't know about you partner but I need a shower. I swear I can feel the bacteria having a party on my skin."

I frowned. "Thanks ever so for the image." I pulled my disk from my pocket. Then with a practiced flick I unfolded it. Charging it was a little more a chore than usual, but I ignored it. It had been one hell of a day.

Leaving the dirty alley with its new green strip, dented brick, and cherry red sports car I headed for what I'd recently learned with chagrin was the exact center of Dakota, our old abandoned gas station/headquarters. The familiar roar of Gear's jet powered skates provided the only noise as we zoomed along the skyline. It eased nerves I hadn't noticed were raw.

By the time we'd arrived I was drooping with exhaustion. Fatigue seemed to have settled in all of my limbs. I hadn't felt this wasted since I pull four all-nighters in a row. Dimly I recognized the familiar effects of adrenaline drop off but it was a far away kind of knowledge. Moving on autopilot I made my way to the back of the station barely remembering to collapse and collect my ride.

The back room of our clubhouse looked more like a laundry room than the lair of a couple of superheroes. But fighting crime can be a dirty business. And no villain is gonna respect a guy with grease stains on his costume from his last dive into a dumpster courtesy of the last supervillian. Yet how's a hero supposed to keep his secret identity if he's gotta risk leaving his costume in the dryer? So the matching dented old washer and dryer set Richie had salvaged from the junkyard were a must. The twin shower stalls next to them, non-matching ones since the second gray one was joined my whitish one when Gear came into being, were just another practicality we'd learned the hard way. Parents are funny about noticing crusted blood and dirt on their kids. Then there's just the luxury of being able to walk home with shoes not squishing from slime the newest metahuman put out.

Stripping unashamedly I threw my clothes in the washer. It joined a few other sets of identical costumes. Another thing I never would have thought of before the big bang. Heroes should buy in bulk. Eyes half closed I jumped into the three sided metal box of my shower. Turning the knobs I leaned my forehead against the steel under the showerhead as the steamy jets caressed my back. The patter of feet and the sudden whooshing of the washer running barely registered. The sudden increase in temperature when Richie began his shower jolted me back to reality though. I winced and fumbled for the soap in its little tray on my right. Soaping down all the important parts quickly then stepping back into the spray I heard the water on my right shut off. Richie had beaten me, as usual. Twisting the knobs I stepped out of the alcove.

Beside the dryer was a basket of clean clothes. Neither of us were big neat freaks so nothing was folded but we did draw the line on dumping things on the floor. I made my way over. Richie already had boxers and a t-shirt on. He was having a hard time getting his pants on though. He kept picking up his foot and missing the pant leg. His closed eyes probably weren't helping. Normally I'd be laughing or at least teasing my best bud about his lack of coordination but right now all I could feel was sympathy.

I dug around through the basket till I found enough of my civilian clothes to be considered an outfit. I managed to get dressed fairly quickly luckily avoiding Richie's pant problem.

"Virgil. Going to collapse. Your place is closer." I blinked at my friend sleepily vaguely amazed that he'd been capable to string two sentences together. They'd been strained but they were definitely sentences.

"ok" I nodded and my head felt like it was disconnected from my neck.

How we made it to my house I'll never know. The next thing I knew my covers were scratching over my skin and I was in my bed. Then there was a creak and dip and suddenly a solid warmth pressed against me. I turned and snuggled deeper into that reassuring presence. Arms wrapped around me. Then everything went dark.

*^*^*

(Sharon's POV)

Of all the things I miss about Mom her cooking is the one that I miss the most. At least in the mornings. Standing outside of Virgil's door I shook my head. ^Dang it! I don't even like my cooking but when he starts complaining... It makes me so mad! If he dosen't like the way I make things he should make his own. I know what I should do. Get lessons then surprise him with a gourmet meal- Sigh. But then I'd have to admit that my food *really* is barely edible. I've spent so much time spitefully defending my skills that it'd look like Virgil was right and I wasn't about to let that happen. A big sister's got to keep the upper hand.^

Shaking my thoughts off I swing little bro's door open. For today anyway it's another round of soupy eggs and burned toast.

The room's a mess as usual and without Daddy here this weekend I know it's going to stay that way until at least next Sunday. With a couple quick steps I was beside the twin bed Virgil has had shoved up against the wall since he was eight and worried that without his safety bars he fall off the bed and break his neck.

^Oh my. ^

Virgil wasn't alone in his bed. That wasn't all that bizarre. Richie lives at our house more than his own as I pointed out that one time that resulted in him running away. Something I still feel guilty about. Richie is Virgil's best friend and has slept over plenty of nights. So the pale blond hair glinting in the sunlight on my brother's bed wasn't a shock. No. What took my breath away was the heartbreakingly cute *cuddling* they were doing. My little brother was tucked up under Richie's chin, his arms were wrapped around and I could swear *under* the other boy's white t-shirt, he was pressed so close that any closer and he'd have been on the other side, and he had the dopiest happiest all-round sweetest wistful smile on his lips. It looked like a smile I'd seen before, in my mirror when I thought about Adam. It looked like... love.

I don't think I've ever had an epiphany before- well, except for that time I thought Virgil was Static, but I was wrong so that obviously dosen't count- but I sure as shooting was having one now.

Dazed and more than a little breathless I turned and slowly walked out of my brother's room. I gently shut the door behind me and headed for the kitchen. Somehow the stairs, which I'd descended thousands of times before seemed to take forever to walk down. Swinging the door open revealed the kitchen was just as I left it. The eggs were sitting in the pan waiting to be cracked and cooked. The bread was piled on a plate next to the toaster. The sight sent a wave of ridiculous relief through me. A semi hysterical laugh bubbled out of my mouth. Quickly I slapped my hand over it but the sound still echoed in my ears.

^Get a hold of yourself Sharon girl.^

I released my mouth, took a deep breath, walked to the closest chair, and sat.

^Okay.^

^Okay.^

I knew I should be thinking about what I'd just discovered but all I could do was stare at the tabletop. My mind was whirling around and before I could settle on one thought it would be slammed away by another.

I closed my eyes and let out a cleansing breath. "Okay." My jiggling thoughts crystallized and stopped trying to jam out my ears. Opening my eyes I let out breathily my shocked realization, "Oh, boy. My brother's in love. With his best friend. His best *male* friend." I knew I'd basically repeated myself, to myself, but damn it bore repeating. I'd never even contemplated my brother being gay. For a minute I wavered, was what I saw real? Had I maybe miss read the situation? The memory of my brother snuggled up next to Richie flashed through my mind and the feeling of absolute certainty that had struck me replayed. It had felt solid. Solid like 'I know the sky is blue' solid. No, I was right. That was a dopey 'I'm in loooove. I've got it so baddd.' look. Even if he didn't know it yet Virgil was in love. ^Wait. Didn't know it yet? Of course he didn't know it yet. When it came to emotions my brother was as dense as a wall of concrete.^

I frowned. "But what about said friend?" ^Was Richie in love with my brother? What should I do if he wasn't? Play matchmaker? We argue a lot but I love my little bro', should I try and clue him in? Give him tips on how to let a guy know you're interested?^ I giggled at the thought of Virgil with his hair in curlers in a pink bathrobe on my bed hovering over the latest Cosmo talking about boys in those high girly tones that all self- respecting women deny even exist.

Getting up I went over to the coffee maker, picked up my mug from beside it, pulled out the pot, and filled my cup. Relief had relaxed me. I wasn't a bigot. I didn't have a problem with my brother being gay. It was a good thing to know I was right about myself. I was understandably shocked though. His first love, wow, this was much bigger than his first crush, that wimpy infatuation he had for Frieda. It was hard to imagine that he'd found it at just seventeen. Look how long it took me! ^And they say girls mature faster. Ha.^

Tbc... if anyone likes it.


	2. The Right Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Richie's POV)

Glass Half Empty

(Richie's POV)

Warmth trickled over my neck causing me to shiver. Half-awake, mind fuzzy, I twisted my head and found my nose buried in black locks that smelled of ivory soap and pure Virgil, that musky cinnamon-y smell that occupied many of my dreams. ^Hmm, nice.^ I buried my nose deeper into the smell trying to get closer. Then the warmth pressed against my front and the hands that on my back registered. I could feel the warmth from each individual finger burning into my skin. My front side was suddenly not warm enough because it wasn't bare and pressed up against equally bare skin. ^Oh God.^ I groaned and shifted carefully away from the hot body snuggled up on mine trying to stop the stirring in my groin from growing worse.

Apparently not carefully enough because Virgil scooted away from sleepily and lifted his head to blink with clouded eyes up at me. Head cradled by his pillow, eyes dazed and unfocused, his pouty lips hovering inches from mine so his breath mingled with mine he looked ripe for ravishing. I groaned silently this time. ^Thoughts like that are definitely not helping!^

"Mornin'" I croaked then cleared my throat embarrassed at my lack of control and prayed that I wasn't blushing. Virgil's smile stretched dreamily across his face. The urge to just do it, to bend forward just the slightest bit, and kiss the living daylights out of him had me half the distance before I checked the movement. Parts of me were definitely more than willing to destroy my friendship, they wanted *closer* *now*. I took a deep breath and summoned the image of a naked Shiv to my mind. That guy's just nasty. I don't think he's taken a bath since the Boom. Instantly all thoughts of jumping my straight friend flew out the window along with my stomach.

"Are you alright?" I looked up to see Virgil's face contorted in a mewl of concern. "You look like you just sucked on a lemon." His finger lightly touched my puckered lips and everything was back like he'd flipped a switch.

I smiled tightly and nodded then rolled over the arm whose attached hand had stayed under my shirt and over the side of the bed at warp speed, or at least as close to it as I could get. Endeavoring afterward to forget how it had felt to have that hand sweep across the skin of my back like a caress. ^Not helping.^ Not turning around I rose from my crouch and headed for the door throwing, "Just nature's call." Over my shoulder. Meanwhile praying. ^Oh Lord, who art in heaven, please not let him notice I'm walking like a duck.^

The walk to the bathroom helped. I still firmly closed and locked the door behind me though. Letting my head thud back onto its solid wood paneling I groaned. ^What's wrong with me? I can usually keep it together better than this. I've shared a bed with him before. I can't- I need him. I won't let this get in the way. *I won't*.^

Staggering away from the door I sat on the closed lid of the toilet. Elbows on my knees I glared down at my crotch. I may have an IQ of 200+ but I've still got the body of a teenager and all the hormones that go with it. Makes my life difficult, what with me being love with my best friend. ^And therein lies my problem.^ He is my best friend. I know him better than anyone on the planet. Sometimes I know what he's going to do even before he does. I *know* he's not homophobic (Unlike my oh-so tolerant Dad who'd probably kick me out of the house). If I told him I was gay he'd think about it for a few minutes, nod his head, and say, "Wish you'd told me sooner."

And I think that's the worst part.

I could tell him I'm gay. I couldn't tell him I loved him. Our friendship would never recover. He'd always look at me with a sort of pity if I told him. Because above all else Virgil is my friend and he'd wish there was someway to make me happy but there was no way he could be what I wanted.

Sometimes I look at him and my heart aches because I know I can't have him. I have to blink my eyes to banish my tears and paste on a phony smile to cover the pain. He's all I ever think about. Madeline Spalding could tell you if she didn't have amnesia.

I wish sometimes I didn't love him. Then he does something so brave, so stupid, and he gives me that goofy smile. I just can't help it. I fall for him all over again and can't remember why I ever felt any pain. This is how it has to be. Me wanting in silence. Because without him by my side I wouldn't have anything.

Oh, I know Vee has his flaws. He's got plenty. He likes to show off. He clips his toenails and dosen't clean them up. He always forgets when I've returned stuff. He's got terminal case of blindness where his heroes are concerned. He puts CD's back in the wrong cases. No, I haven't put him up on a pedestal. Virgil was my friend long before he became my love interest. That kind of allows you to see a person for what he really is. I know him in every way but biblical, which makes me want to know him biblically.

Sighing I stood up. It hits me sometimes. Most times I can forget. Be happy to be his friend, to be with him. But when I don't have the energy to keep up the walls I usually do around the information, that's when it feels like a wound that's had its scab ripped off and is seeping once more.

This is different though. I feel so tired right now, like someone reached inside me and took out piece of me out to play with. I don't know what's gone exactly but I can feel the edges of the hole. It's messing with me in ways that I've never felt before. My control is absolutely shattered. My walls have breaches you could drive lines of tanks through, and not single file either. With a snort I went to the sink and grab the toothbrush I leave here.

^I'm lucky we're not dead. Alva was getting played. That machine his scientists built wouldn't have done zip except kill us. They were just taking his money and faking their results. I almost wish I could have let it fail. I imagine Alva dosen't treat failure well.^ Shivers shook me from the combination rage, fatigue, and fear I still felt at being held and tested on like a lab rat then used as a battery to kick start a idiot millionaire brat. Gritting my teeth I stilled my hand enough to get the toothpaste on.

^I feel as weak as a kitten. Vee's got to be feeling worse.^ Staring into the mirror and my reflection's eyes I bit into the bristles of the toothbrush in my mouth. Comprehension hit me like a Semi carrying hazardous material doing sixty in a fifteen zone and exploded behind my eyelids. I was so caught up in the desperation to save Lawn Ornament Boy... ^I can't believe I let him do that! My calculations could have been wrong! I had to make up the programming on the fly- I could have killed him!^

With a deliberate slowness I spit out the toothpaste and rinsed out my mouth. He wasn't dead. I wasn't dead. Dead people didn't brush their teeth or get erections because they were lusting after their friends. Turning on the faucet I rinse out my brush and replaced it in its holder. I stared at my toothbrush.

I leave a toothbrush at his house.

Wincing I turn around so I won't have to look at it.

When I was a little kid, before we moved to Dakota, we lived with my Dad's sister and her two daughters because both my parents needed to work. They worked days and my Aunt Serena worked nights because they couldn't afford a babysitter. Mindy and Mandi, the terror twins, were older than me and their mom was too harried after working night shifts at the diner most days to do much more than plop us together in their room and lock the door. That was her idea of babysitting. If my Dad ever figures out I'm batting for the other team he'll blame it on all those years playing dress up, tea party, and house. I know he was pretty shocked when he saw me in a dress with my hair in pigtails. Soon after that Dad got another job and we moved to Dakota. Probably scared the bejesus out of him.

Looking at that toothbrush I realized I'd been playing house again. Setting up the gas station like a home. It's a damn three-room shack! But I removed two toilets, a wall, and a urinal and installed showers and laundry machines in what used to be the bathroom. In the former break room I squeezed in a refrigerator and pirated cable television to go with our pirated electricity next to the couch that had come with the place. The connivance area portion is our workshop. I pulled out the check out counter and put in tool dressers. Heck, I even got my hands on the deed through some creative computer manipulation. We could live in the place. ^It's our 'Home away from Home'.^ I thought sarcastically.

Then there was the Hawkins household. I was slowly moving in here too. My clothes were migrating into Virgil's closet. My schematics were on his computer. My toothbrush was in his bathroom. Me, I was in his bed. Despite my best intentions my subconscious was crossing the line I'd set for myself. It was making a play. ^Fuck.^

The wall was starting to look really tempting. ^I wonder if I'll leave a dent if I try and put my head through it?^

With a sigh I pinched my nose pushing up my glasses. The skin that was under my fingers was tender. I winced and pulled them away. ^Funny set of priorities I had last night. Strip down to my skivvies but don't take off my glasses. Yeah, that's me all over.^

There really wasn't anything I could do about it. Vee certainly hadn't noticed that I was slowly moving in with him. But then, while I truly love the guy, I know he can be totally oblivious to the human psyche. He never even noticed that in all the years he'd known me I *never* talked about my Dad or that he'd only ever met my Mom, who's almost the epitome of the submissive housewife despite my urging. He never noticed when Frieda was putting out 'I want to be more than friends' vibes and when she was putting out 'I think you've had your shot buddy so lets just be friends' vibes. He practically has to trip over the newest Bang Baby before he'd catch on, even if they were, as it more often or not turned out, somebody we already knew. I was actually more worried about Sharon. Girls notice things. And Sharon had already seen through me once before.

All I could do was keep my hands to myself and make sure I didn't jump all over the guy when he went out with people that weren't me or canceled plans because he wanted to impress a girl. I might not be able to have what I want but I sure as heck wasn't going to try and stop him from finding something that he can want and have.

Pushing away from the sink I went again to the toilet. ^Time to do what I told Virg I was going to do.^

^Not very glamorous, the life of a superhero. We gotta piss in the morning just like everybody else. But nobody ever writes about that.^ Shaking it off I tucked it back in and returned to the sink to wash my hands.

After I shut off the water I unlocked the door with a flip. ^Can't hide in the bathroom forever. For one thing there's no food. Unlike the gas station.^

Smiling a little at my own poor joke I opened the door- to find Virgil standing right *there*. Unable to move I stared at the guy like a lovesick fool. Luckily he just smiled brilliantly at me. It was the same smile he'd been wearing earlier and there was no more thought behind it than the last one. Virgil was purely *euphoric*. For heavens' sake he was glowing.

^It's unfair. I get cynical, philosophical, and just plain morose when I'm fatigued and he gets- _beautiful_.^ We stood there unmoving for what seemed like an eternity gazes locked. Until the panicked part of me jumping up and down in the back of my mind shouting that 'even Virgil was going to figure it out if I kept looking at him like I wanted to eat him' was able to wrest back control of my body. I swallowed the lump in my throat cursing Alva and his damn machine silently. Then I released the doorknob I'd been attempting to strangle with sweaty fingers and quickly sidled around him.

We barely brushed each other as I went out and he went in but for a second I felt the same contentment that had been shining out of Virgil's face. It was like a flood of warmth cocooning around my soul reaching into all the wholes and filling them for just a second. Once more shivering but this time from a cold deep within all I could do was think dazedly, ^What the fuck?^

Tbc...


	3. Believe It or Not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe It or Not

Believe It or Not

* * *

A/N: Due to some changes in postings thoughts will now be _italized_.

(Sharon's POV)

 _Well that was interesting_. I glanced at the door that lead to the living room caught between amusement and bewilderment.

I'd just spent the last fifty minutes watching my brother and his houseguest eat everything in the fridge. _Virgil even ate the raspberry jam- sans bread and sans spoon_. Thinking about it the only description I could come up with was 'strange beyond fucking belief'.

Richie'd stumbled through the kitchen door clad in white t-shirt and blue boxers at three p.m. Now Richie never had much of a tan, he was one of the whitest of white boys I'd ever known, but his face was as pale as his shirt. The dark circles under his glasses stood out in a stark an unattractive contrast. The darn fool looked like he hadn't slept a wink. Which was ridiculous. I'd gone upstairs at eight. That meant he'd been sleeping for at least seven hours.

I sat there in the far corner of the kitchen table cradling my coffee cup too stunned to do more than watch as across the length of the kitchen Richie shuffled to the fridge like a zombie from Night of the Living Dead. He pulled out the milk and set it on the counter. Turning to a cabinet he pulled out a bowl. Then opening the one to the right he snagged the Coco Puffs. Spinning on his heel Richie slid open a drawer to grab a spoon. He did it all with his eyes closed.

I'd acknowledged earlier that Richie should be paying us rent - Hell, I hadn't given the fact that he was barely dressed a second thought because he was practically family, with the practically actually coming up for review if I was reading things right.- But I wasn't sure **I** could have done what Richie had without stubbing my toe or whacking my funny bone.

He gathered up his fixings, almost overloading his arms, and hobbled over to the table. By the time Virgil came through the swinging door Richie had devoured the entire box. I didn't say a word the whole time. Partly out of astonishment and partly because I wanted a chance to really look at Richie when he didn't have his guard up. A part of me had recognized that Richie was in no state to dissemble and took advantage of it. I wanted to **see**... well, I wanted to really see the boy my brother had been bringing to our house and our lives. I'd subconsciously shoved him in the peg hole of 'geeky friend of my brother's' for a long time. I needed to see if he was the right stuff for my brother. The fact that the boy truly seemed unaware of my presence just made it easier.

In those first few minutes I didn't learn much about the inner workings of Richie Foley. He mostly ate blindly as if by remote. The spoon going from his mouth back to the bowl without him once glancing down at it. I did notice his face was unusually grim. The Richie I've always seen is usually so up. Sometimes I'd think crossly 'the sun must shine out that boy's ass' when his good mood'd clash with my own bad one. He was in my bro's shadow, joyfully backing him up in everything. This morning though his eyes kind of squinty as if he was in pain and I could practically hear the wheels grinding in his head as he went over unpleasant thoughts. It sounded kind of painful.

When Virgil came down, that's when things got interestin. Well, more interestin since things had been rather atypical. He was the antithesis of the introverted Richie. My first thought on seeing the smug blissful look on his face was, _He looks like he got laid_. I had to cast a quick glance at Richie. But the deeply troubled look residing there told me there was no way **that** had happened. I wasn't sure if I was disappointed or relieved. Disappointment warred with relief because while it meant I had to figure out what I was going to do the idea of my little brother actually having sex was worthy of soaping my brain.

The languid look Virgil cast over the entire kitchen was way out of character. My brother's usually got enough energy running through him to jump start a car but his eyes just -slid- over everything, even me. I can't remember the last time we were in a room together and not fighting. It was like he'd become a Buddhist monk who'd decided that all conflict did was get you dirty. After his apathetic recon of kitchen he made his way to the counter with a disturbing sway to his movements and grabbed a bowl, a spoon, and the box of Corn Chex. He sat down opposite of Richie and took the milk for his own all the while smiling ecstatically.

Frowning I felt myself mentally grasping at the details of what I was seeing trying to knock the knowledge off the tip of my mind. Because I knew what was going on if I could just- I'd sat up like someone'd shocked me as I become conscious of what had been bugging me about his actions. Though Virgil's eyes were wide open and shiny, he was just as wasted as Richie. He was punch drunk! That shine wasn't awareness at all. It was the blissful blankness that happens- when one's brain isn't firing on all thrusters. I knew then that I was falling back on a Star Trek reference but to say the least I was surprised. I'd never seen my brother like that before, not the Energizer Bunny of Dakota. When he was little he'd drive Mom nuts by not going to bed for days and I knew for sure that Virgil'd been home doing nothing all weekend. He'd been complaining about the lack of anything to do since Richie'd left on Friday.

That had brought my focus back to Richie. He was back early. Why? I stared at the teen. However, my telepathic powers were on the fritz and all I saw was an exhausted boy who didn't even seem to notice I was trying to burn a hole through his skull.

Yet- while Richie'd looked right through me he definitely saw my bro. He gaped at Virgil for several long moments as the thief used the milk on his Chex. Then with a blink, which somehow translated into a shake to clear his head, Richie dropped his spoon and rose. He went back to the fridge, took out the bread, salami, cheese, and lettuce, grabbed a plate from another cupboard. Then proceeded to create a sandwich that defied the laws of gravity. Things went on like this for quite a while. When they ran out of one thing they moved on to something else. A three quarters of a can of baked beans, a Tupperware container of last week's leftover pasta, half a pound of sliced roast beef, two pounds of American cheese, a gallon of milk, half a salami, a jar of dill pickles, five oranges, three apples, a bag of celery stalks, a head of lettuce, a bag of wheat buns, and a jar of raspberry jam were devoured like they were air.

This unbelievable display of human garbage disposalism did more than give me a sympathy stomachache. It gave me my first indications that Richie might be receptive to my brother's feelings.

The first time it happened I dismissed it as fatigue. The second time I began to wonder. By the third time I was sure. Richie **leaned** towards my bro. He'd start forward as if he was about to fall forward then jerk himself back. It was like he wanted to get closer but wouldn't let himself. The whole thing was pretty ridiculous since they were separated by about two and a half feet of wood, but it was also very cute.

 _Okay. Maybe I'm reading into it. But_ \- I smirked at the empty kitchen, _I know I'm not reading into the look I saw on Richie's face when Virgil licked the jam off his fingers._ I'd never seen someone look quite so gob smacked in my life. He couldn't look away either. He just kept staring as my brother the oblivious licked and sucked each of his fingers free of the sticky jelly because they'd run out of clean spoons. _**That** I'm sure I'm not reading into_. All in all it looked pretty promising for Virgil, if I could get him to see what was right in front of his heart.

Tipping back my cup I swallowed the last dregs of my coffee. With a push and a squeal I moved back from the table. Rising I took my cup over to the sink. I shook my head at the pile of crumb-covered dishes and placed my cup in a slot between a couple bowls. _I can't believe they ate all that. Heck, I can't believe it fit!  
_  
Unable to resist I found myself in front of the refrigerator. With a tug I had it open and I shook my head once more. There was the box of baking soda in the back, a bottle of grapefruit juice was on the door, on the middle shelf there was a carton of eggs that I assume were overlooked because they'd have to be cooked, and the cheese almond log that Aunt Matilda had sent up from Texas for Christmas, which had been unanimously declared "lethal" but we had never bothered to throw out, was still in the sandwich drawer. Other than that... _Jeez, they really did eat everything in the fridge.  
_  
I shut the door frowning. _This is- odd. I know teenagers can eat but not this much. There was at least three weeks worth of food in there. Then there's the tiredness. What is going on?_

"Arggh." I ground out frustrated. My mood had quickly swung from tolerance and compassion to my more customary irritation and turmoil where Virgil was concerned. All my trepidation over the budding relationship I'd been holding my breath so not to damage was snowed under in a flash of red as well entrench buttons were pushed. _This dosen't make any sense. Things aren't adding up. What is Virgil into? I want some answers, damn it._ Filled with resolve I marched through the kitchen door into the living room only to stop dead at the sight before me.

 _This is becoming a pattern._ I thought weakly.

"- believe it or not." Dean Cain's hushed voice rolled throughout the room.

It was the sole sound other than the soft paired breathing coming from the couch. Where, in a reverse yet an echo of this morning, Richie lay snuggled up against and under my brother. He was scrunched in as if to get ever part of his body as close as he could to Virgil. His legs were tucked under him at an acute angle ending with sock covered feet. Richie had an arm wrapped tightly around Virgil's waist and his face mashed up against Virgil's chest. The lines I'd noticed earlier in the kitchen were gone. He looked peaceful. He looked whole. Like somehow the person I'd seen in the kitchen was a shadow and now wrapped up in my brother's arms he was solid.

Virgil's legs were resting on the floor; his right arm was wrapped possessively around Richie's shoulders. His face had lost his manically cheerful smile and relaxed back into that tiny uplifting of his lips that was so sweet and full of love. It appeared that sleep had claimed them both while they were watching TV and they'd clumped together like puppies barely taking up the far end of the couch. Their chests rose and fell together. All temptation to interrogate my brother till he begged for mercy dissolved as my reverence reasserted itself. _Remember girl, love is a minefield. Got to tread lightly before you blow everything up including yourself._

Stepping forward to turn off the television my toe hooked on something under the couch corner. The loud rattling noise of plastic hitting plastic overwhelmed Dean's commentary momentarily. Freezing I quickly glanced at the sleeping couple. Richie stirred blinking his eyes drowsily. "Mhmm." Holding my breath, feeling more apprehensive than I could rightly explain, I let it out in a low explosion of relief when he closed them again and snuggled in closer to my brother.

Puzzled at my own actions I went over and switched off the television with a push of a button. While I felt a need to promote the love I saw between my brother and Richie the way I'd panicked at the idea of waking them was out of proportion.

I turned back around to the source of my confusion. I admit that I don't understand my brother. It's as if there's some sort of wall around all the important parts of him and all I interact with is what he deems safe for public viewing, like all our fighting is to distract me and get me off balance. Sometimes, when he thinks no one's watching he looks so haunted. I can't help but wonder what puts that look on his face. Mom's death? I don't know. It hurts to know if I asked he wouldn't tell me. So I don't ask. If I don't ask I can pretend that he might.

With a weight on my heart I smile self-mockingly. I'm being mighty depressing. _But maybe that's why. **Why** I feel I have to help these two. Because I **do** see that inner core of Virgil when I see them together. Because I understand him then and I selfishly want to keep on understanding him._

Giving the duo on the couch one long last look I sighed. _I'm not sure how I'm going to do it yet but I guess I am going to play matchmaker. At least it dosen't look like it'll be too hard, once I get past the denial._ Walking back to my room I hoped that those weren't famous last words.


	4. Chasing Unicorns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chasing Unicorns**

A/N: Sorry for the huge delay people. You know how it is and if you don't can we please exchange lives? Hopefully this chapter will meet your expectations.

  
**Chasing Unicorns**   


(Virgil's POV)

Blinking in the half dark I could make out a fuzzy black squarish blob of the television melding into the wall. Beneath my left hand I could feel the worn ridges of the couch's upholstery. I blinked a couple more times. I was in the living room. Why/How I was in the living room? My last memory was of being horizontal. Now I was distinctly vertical. My mind chased itself around. I felt like I was trying to connect two ends of paper ignoring the length in the middle and frustrated because I couldn't figure out why it wasn't working. Unpleasant was an understatement. With a mental shrug I stopped trying. I wasn't being shot at, threatened, or in the middle of a burning building so whatever it was couldn't be that important. Pressing closer into the warmth along my right side I found some comfort. I could remember the warmth. The solid weight of the arm was there around my middle, in the wrong place but it was there too. Things couldn't be that different.

My eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness, the tv now had edges, but I felt no compelling drive to get up. In fact a sort of lazy satisfaction suffused my bones. I shifted a little to get into a more comfortable position. _Nice. Hmm.  
_  
"Fgh." A soft slide on my stomach that almost tickled accompanied the groan. I blinked again. Then I realized that the fabric of my tee shirt had gotten pushed along under a hand. I looked down at the pink skinned hand that was resting on the scrunched up fabric on left side of my body right under my abs. It was an interesting contrast and for a moment I was mesmerized by the pink over the white along side the chocolate brown triangle that had been revealed. I found myself following the pink up. Blond hairs sprinkled over the pale skin then disappeared under the ribbed white of another cotton tee. Going from the racked up shoulder ran smack dab into a face. _Oh, of course._

Richie was all smooshed against my chest. His glasses skewed off his nose. There were dark pink wrinkle lines on his cheek telling me he'd been there for a while. _Who else could it have been?_ I'd woken up next to him before. After all day 'toon and study sessions when he was either were too tired to go home or we'd just conked out after the sugar and excitement burned off. Confusion made me frown. _Why didn't I know it was him? We'd lain like this dozens of times. Why does this feel different_?

"Vee?" I looked back down at my friend's call. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks enhancing the innocent expression sleep had left on his face. The hint of frown crease between his brows did nothing to detract from the impression. _Awha. He looks so cuu-ute._ I smiled broadly knowing he'd deck me if I ever told him that.

I gave him a little nudge with my shoulder. "Hey."

He shifted his head to look around. The tilted it back to look up at me. "Hey." A big yawn followed the word flashing his pearly whites.

 _You'd never guess that under that face lays the brain of a super genius._

Richie pulled away from me struggling to get upright. Once he was he arched his spine like a cat. I heard the crack of his backbone. The movement pulled his t-shirt tight outlining his muscles. Even in the less than decent lighting I could see there was more to them than there used to be, more than all the basketball games in the world could have caused if anyone bothered to notice. I know from looking in my own mirror that the hours put into patrolling have toughened my body as well. But-

"I think we should get some martial arts training."

Several rapid blinks caused Richie to notice that his glasses were skewed and he reached up to settle them. "I'm still asleep Vee. What did you say?"

With a sigh tried to figure out what I meant. Mentally groping for the words to back up what I was feeling I began explaining. "Alva's discovered a way to dampen a metahuman's powers. I didn't realize until I couldn't use my powers anymore just how much I rely on them to get me out of trouble. It wasn't like the sunspots. This was scarier. This was aimed directly at **me**. I was in the middle of a fight for our lives but I didn't know if my powers were going to work from one minute to the next. If Alva can come up with it you know someone else can. Next time it happens I don't want to be helpless." A shiver ran through me as I remembered being trapped in a cell with Hot Streak, a guy who had six inches, forty pounds on me, and the practical knowledge of how to take a guy apart, who had about as much love for me as a vegetarian for a all steak buffet.

"I don't know about this bro." Richie took a deep breath and hesitantly pointed out. "Learning one of those styles isn't like what happened with the gas. It's not intuitive. It takes lots of work, maybe years of it to get good."

"But you have to start to get anywhere." I kept pushing not willing to give up this idea. While out of nowhere pretty much described the thing it felt right. Right like 'tail end of a fight plan' when I've had time to process my opponent's moves and it's all come together. This wasn't going to go away. That meant we had to have something to fall back upon. _Besides I'd feel better if Gear had something other than his gadgets, which only work about thirty percent of the time, to get him through fights._ Not that I was going to say that exactly- I did have some brains after all and insulting his thingamabobs wouldn't be the way to convince him. "I know that you won't have the same problem but I don't want you to be at the mercy of some bad guy if someone strips you of your gear." Inspiration hit. "Batman dosen't rely solely on his utility belt." By invoking the name of one of the great heroes I hoped to get Richie to really listen, and of course to capitulate.

He rolled his eyes seeing through my ploy but I could tell he'd accepted defeat. A sheepish grin spread across my face. _Sometimes I think he just fights with me so he can let me win._ Richie's answering sparkling grin made my stomach feel like I'd eaten one of Sharon's attempts at cooking. I shifted uncomfortably unsure of my own reaction.

Scooting forward I pulled myself to my feet. Fists in the air I bowed backward to get the kinks out of my own back.

"We're going to have no free time you know." I turned around to look at Richie inquisitively. _Man I wish I could raise one eyebrow_. My wistful thought that of a true Trekker. He shrugged. "Between school, crime fighting, your dad's center, and now this we'll be lucky if we sleep."

Smiling again I cooed trying to shake the strange sensation that had coiled in my stomach, "Ah, worried about your beauty sleep?"

The twinkle in Richie's eyes said he was up to no good. "No about yours." I placed my hand on my heart as if he'd mortally wounded me as I analyzed the situation. He was still sitting on the couch knees under him his blond hair sticking straight up and to the side in spikes. He looked young, sleep wrinkled, and **vulnerable**. _Perfect_.

"Oh yeah?" I tackled him reaching for below his ribs. Horror flashed across his face and he scrambled back trying to unbend but battle experience came in handy. He couldn't get away.

"You wouldn't!" My wolfish grin was full of teeth as I descended on my prey.

Howls filled the living room as I unmercifully tickled my best friend into the couch. _That'll teach him_. My fingers moved fast as lightening across his stomach and sides despite Richie's desperate attempts to fend them off. Then without warning he shifted from defense to offense. Fighting to catch my breath through my own laughter I tried to regroup. Soon we were both breathless with laughter. Tears streaming down our cheeks. By unspoken agreement we stopped when breathing became impossible and I collapsed onto Richie's chest gasping.

As my breathing settled I could hear Richie's rapid heartbeat under my ear. It was a reassuring sound, especially after the last few days. I sighed as my earlier feeling of satisfaction returned. _This is what I enjoy most. These quiet moments with my best friend. Not the crowd cheering me on or when the adrenaline's pumping as I fight the latest bad guy. It's funny how much I treasure these moments now that I have what every little boy dreams of. What I used to dream of. Adventure isn't all it's made out to be_. My arms tightened around Richie as I once more flashed back to the island _. I don't know what I'd do without him.  
_  
"Vee. I think the remote's digging into my back." There was a hint of pain in the amusement coloring Richie's words.

Reluctantly I released him and pushed myself upright. Richie followed me up then scooted back to fold up his legs Indian style. It was his turn to look inquisitive. I felt my face heat and found a new appreciation for the darkness of the room.

Desperate to change the subject I grabbed at the first excuse that came to mind. "I'm hungry."

Richie's jaw dropped. "You're hungry? Jeez. Well, I don't know if there's anything left."

I frowned. "What do you mean? Did Sharon pig out or something while I was gone?"

Richie's eyes widened and he stilled like C3-PO with then his power turned off. Then he sat up straight his eyes narrowed. _Uh, oh_. "What's the last thing you remember?"

I could already tell I wasn't going to like where this was going. Richie had just done his rendition of 'so that's where that piece goes!' I answered cautiously knowing that my answer was going to be wrong, "Um, lying down?"

"That was-" he glanced at his watch, "fourteen hours and forty two minutes ago." I swallowed. _My God_. He searched my face. "You really don't remember?" I shook my head frantically panic starting to build. I knew that I'd gone to bed somewhere else. I knew it. _What'd happened? How'd I get here?_ I didn't like not having that middle length of paper.

Richie slid his foot over to touch my leg. I looked up at him. "Hey. It's okay Vee." His voice was low and soothing. "All we did was eat the entire contents of your fridge and miss the ending of Ripley's Believe it or Not."

Panic faded as rapidly as it had set in. Richie wouldn't lie to me. "Okay that's not too bad to have lost-" I frowned and raised my right hand palm out, "wait a minute. Hold up. The entire fridge? My Dad's going to kill me!"

(Richie's POV)

 _Alva's scientists really weren't worth their paychecks_. By now the thought wasn't even full of disgust. Adding up the fifteen hour shut down of higher functions, the chemical imbalances, and the excess of ten thousand calorie consumption and it took two seconds for me to diagnosis that the fix-it machine for Statue Boy had seriously screwed up our energy flows. I couldn't be positive without some thorough testing. Yet it fit my hypothesis, the facts, and my fury. The bozos had checked their ethics and their Hippocratic oath at the bank with their deposits. I told Vee it was just some side effects from the machine without going into the biological reasons but I wasn't sure he heard me over his freaking about the fridge. When I left he was making plans for a quick supermarket run trying to outrun Mr. Hawkins' return home.

 _How can anyone sell their souls for money?_ I just couldn't wrap my mind around it. My IQ may have been supercharged by the Bang but the concept of murdering someone in cold blood for dollars that only stockpiled in bank accounts... It was incomprehensible to me. I could make millions of dollars right now selling ideas to the highest bidder but I had no idea how my devices would be used. The Lady who came up with the plans for the Death Star thought it was going to be used for asteroid mining after all and look how that turned out! Yes it was a fictional example but that didn't make it any less of a warning.

I rubbed my head trying to ease the nagging headache that had developed after I'd left Virgil's. _Another side effect of the even more damaging version no doubt.  
_  
Walking was hard. Not because I was tired. Actually after I'd woken in the Hawkins' living room I'd felt pretty - refreshed. No it was hard because I really wanted to stay at Virgil's. _Mr. Jarwarski's out again_. I nodded absentmindedly at our elderly grass watering neighbor.

Crumbling cement flashed before my eyes as I watched the steps under my feet. I turned the knob and swung the door in, only to stop short at the sight of my father. _And there's the reason._

He was dressed to go out in his blue work coat. My heart sank. _Looks like I came home a few seconds too early._ Drawing back his lips in a scowl he spat out, "Hanging with that Gangster again? Find some better friends."

Anger boiled in my veins and made my heart clench but I stayed silent. My face smoothed into stone hiding my feelings behind a perfected mask. I'd practiced my control in the mirror with diligence born of hate and need. Any hint of emotion would be an opening for another attack. If my father had one skill it was flaying people with words. He could chip and dig until they were broken heaps so angry they couldn't think straight or so scared they'd sob at the sight of him. I'd learned a long time ago the easiest way to escape his games was to say nothing, to let him think he'd won.

Sure enough he took my silence as agreement. With a huff he brushed past me out the door.

A low hissing filled the room as I let my breath leak through my clenched teeth. Still stiff with anger I climbed the stairs. Suddenly I felt the need for a long hot shower.

 _At least it's not physical._ It was a hollow comfort. I'd been expecting this for a while now. Unlike Virgil I knew what the trip to the Sci-fi con was about. It was fun and exciting and I took advantage of it but I knew it was a pay off. He hadn't used this particular arrow since the day I ran away probably cautious because of my extreme reaction last time. Some times I wish I could have stayed away.

I was eleven when I realized that every time my father took me for ice cream or to ride the carousel at the carnival and swore that it would never happen again, sometimes with tears thrown in for drama, that it just meant he was being nice until the next time something set him off. I think that was the day the first brick was laid around my heart. Until then I'd figured it was mine and mommy's fault, that we'd been bad, but that day as I stared into my blotchy reflection in the bathroom mirror and saw the truth. Anger was like a monster in my father attacking for the joy of seeing hurt. That day I realized I didn't want to let him see me cry again.

Stopping in my room briefly to retrieve some clothes I then continued on my way down the hall to the bathroom. Quickly shutting and locking the door behind me I dropped the sloppy bundle I'd collected under the sink to keep moisture from accumulating on it and pulled my shirt over my head. Above the sink lay the mirror and in my reflection I could see the revealed metal sleeveless tee shirt that had been hidden. My brow creased a little as I sent a mental command. _Release and hide_.

Backpack responded by slowly folding back behind my shoulders leaving his normal legs in place to stabilize as he resumed his mobile form. When I felt all the weight had balanced to the middle of my back Backpack released his grip and fell to the floor. There was a scuttling sound like a giant bug was crawling across the tile as Backpack swiftly darted between the radiator and the wall. He'd long ago scanned all the rooms in both the Foley house and the Hawkins house and knew the places big enough to conceal himself.

Rolling my neck to the right then left I relaxed the muscles along my back. All together Backpack weight was only ten pounds, which was amazing considering the amount of detection equipment, hard drive capacity, weapons compartments, and miscellaneous items like my helmet and pads I'd squeezed into his interior. _Ten pounds didn't sound like much- until you have to wear them everyday all day_.

Next I shed the thin green ring of fabric, only an inch in diameter, that circled my hips. I pulled the stretchy fabric over my head and dumped it on the floor next to my shirt. Shoes bounced into the wall with dull thuds that sounded slightly off for plain sneakers. _Dang things weight more than normal sneakers too. Makes gym class real fun when I forget to bring a change of shoes._ Shucking my pants revealed a set of green shorts with white panels along the sides that ended with a quarter inch green hem double the thickness. Shimming out of those left me standing in my socks and boxers. I shivered looking at the pile of clothes.

Absurdly enough I felt naked. Well it wasn't that absurd, I was standing there in my skivvies. But the removal of my Gear costume that made me feel suddenly vulnerable. The green scraps of fabric at my feet were nothing more than specially designed material that folded into practically nothing with the application of a small electrical current. Yet they seemed like so much more to me. They were my armor. They made me someone special, not just the boy who couldn't stop his father.

Crossing my arms protectively over my chest I looked down at my feet. _There's not much I can do. I'm too young to live on my own and I can't get Mom to leave him._ I grimaced.

 _My first kiss..._ Wistfully I looked in the mirror. Glass lay between the resigned eyes that gazed back at me. It didn't take me long to figure out that what other guys got excited over left me confused and completely cold. Girls were great to hang out with but I never felt the urge to do anything more with them. Not so with the male persuasion. My first kiss though... Some times I do act too much like a girl for my own comfort. Most teenage boys my age simply dream about getting laid. Me, I look forward to my first kiss. I want it to be perfect. Dosen't have to be my true love. _Mainly since I know that's not going to happen._ I quickly buried that thought. But I want to feel something for the guy, maybe some flavor of love. _Just a little longer till college. Then I won't have to worry about Dad maybe **getting** physical_. Sighing I turned away from my reflection making my way over to the shower. I drew back the curtain, which tackily enough looks like the modern conception of a submerged Atlantis complete with the requisite Roman sculptures missing limbs. Then leaned over to twist the faucet on. With a swift pull I switched on the showerhead.

Leaving my hand under the cold water I smiled. _I guess it's not completely true about girls. And boy wasn't that a shock. **Angelina Jolie**. _ I shook my head. A year ago I saw her performance in Tomb Raider. **SHE** got my blood pumping. _It was her take-charge attitude. Her zest._ She moved me in a way no woman ever had. It shook me for a while. By then I'd pretty much determined I was gay so finding a woman arousing was a little bit of a world tilter. Especially since I still enjoyed the shower scene with naked Alex West. _It was a fluke. Like how sometimes a guy will find himself attracted to another guy._ I tried out my reactions to different people after that and lo and behold I still came out gay. _My life would be easier if I really was heterosexual but I don't like lying to myself._

The water had warmed under my hand so I withdrew it and toed off my socks. Then dropping my hands to my boxers I shoved them down. Stepping out of them I went to the sink and pulled off my glasses. The world got blurry around the edges and the bridge of my nose felt raw. _Hmm. It'd be easier if I didn't need those._ Immediately half dozen ideas on how to cure myopia popped up. I dismissed four right off the bat as impractical because I lacked the resources. Doing a little preliminary work on the two remaining I discarded another as likely to be a temporary fix and settled on the last remaining one as the most likely to succeed. I filed the innovation in my 'to do' box. Then frowned.

My miraculously improved eyesight would be almost impossible to explain. Some people's need for corrective lenses changes with age but I'd been a four eyes since second grade. It was unlikely that with a personal and family history like mine that my eyes would have recovered. _Oh, well I guess I'll have to wear glass lenses. Being blind could be hazardous in my line of work._

I maneuvered through the piles of laundry on the floor then hopped in the shower pulling the curtain closed behind me. Eyes closed I tilted my head back and just- soaked. My father seeped out of my pores along with all my frustrations and fears. Hot water felt so good hitting my face and moving through my hair. It ran down my body soothing the coldness I'd felt since I left the warm side of the guy I was unlucky enough to fall in love with.

When I woke up there on the couch though it was perfect. It felt like happiness. I was with my best friend and I didn't want anything more. After we'd separated a bit I still hadn't wanted to let go of that feeling. I had to touch him to make sure he was real. I didn't want to let go. Ever. That kind of possessiveness had gotten me into trouble before though and I left after I filled Vee in on the reason for his sudden loss of memory. _Coulda knocked me over with a feather when Daisy said she was glad we'd gotten back together. Way she talked it was like she thought we'd broken up. To me it kind of was. I was hurt and full of pride. I just wanted to keep him safe and he didn't understand. Girls really are dangerous._

Arms braced on the wall in front of me head bowed I let the water cascade down my back. I watched as the water dripped down the sides of my face to land in the run off swirling down the drain. There was still a dull throbbing behind my eyes that seem to match the beat of water against the curtain and the bottom of the tub. For a moment I was lost in the sensations and time seemed to stop.

Then straightening I shook my head sending water flying to strike the confines of the shower and my hair to sting my face. Water still dribbled down my face like pseudo tears as I reached for the shampoo that hung from the showerhead. I squirted about two quarters worth into my left palm then ducked under the water's fall and began running it through my short locks. Things went pretty fast from there, mostly from habit. I always rush to finish when I shower with Vee. It lets me sneak a few peaks. Besides if I stay in knowing he's naked and slippery right next to me- well it reassures me in an embarrassing kind of way that I really am a guy after all.

Hopping out of the shower into the steam filled room I moved with the skill of the long blind in putting on my clothes and always present costume. The material of my Gear outfits shed dirt like Teflon steel because of the substance I coated them with to make them easier to conceal under my normal clothes. So I could get several days wear out of the one set. That was only true however if I nothing too strenuous or disastrous happened, like getting tossed into a dumpster, because it didn't do so well with smell. This one was not the one I'd worn while held captive by Alva, actually I had to resist the urge to burn the thing as soon as I'd stripped it off. A shiver ran down my spine. _Alva's definitely not making my Christmas list this year._

I called Backpack to return. He clambered up my legs using my blue jeans for traction. I shivered again when he settled on my bareback. Hiding behind the radiator had shielded him some from the high temperature the room had gained and he was cold against my heated back. After he was once again hugging my chest as a metal wife-beater I roughly pulled the forest green shirt I'd grabbed over my head.

Cleaning up the leftovers littering the white and black stripped linoleum floor I dumped them in the wicker dirty clothes basket beside the peeling off-white radiator. Then I shifted my shoes to my left hand and grabbed my glasses. Holding them in my hand I swung open the door. A cold blast of air slammed into me as the heat rushed out of the room. As I stepped out into the hall I settled my glasses on my nose. Then turning on the heel of my socked feet I made my way back to my room. I felt like a little down time with the latest Plantman comic book.

This weekend hand definitely not gone as I'd hopped. Meeting fellow eggheads, having some fun discussing the errors on various Sci-fi shows, getting away from Vee for a while to give my heart a reprieve, those I expected. Heck, I even expected to be miserable without Vee despite my best intentions. Instead I got ambushed mid-air by a bunch of Alva's pet flying monkeys. Then there was a whole lot of nothing until the pain.

Standing there in my room I suddenly felt trapped. All around me were the 'gifts' my father had given me. I remembered how gaga Vee was over them, how jealous he was, and how much it hurt for me to play along. Snarling I grabbed the F-14 model dangling to my right and ripped it off its string. "ARGHHHHHH!" I threw it with all my might against the wall. It shattered. The wings lay around it like a fallen angel and all at once I felt hollow. _I wonder if this is post-traumatic stress?  
_  
"Richie are-are you alright?"

I turned to see my mother standing in my doorway. She was gripping the molding looking at me hesitantly concern shining out of her eyes. Her skin was pale in contrast to her bright red hair and white shirt. Looking at her I could see why a man like my father married her. She was delicate and pretty, easy to push around.

I sighed looking away. "Yeah Mom. I'm fine _." I've just been kidnapped, drugged, and tortured for the last few days and had to come home to father. I'm completely fine._

There were some shuffling sounds as Mom made her way timidly over to the mess I'd made. I wouldn't look at her. I kept my eyes focused on my bed. But I could hear her as she dropped to her knees and began cleaning up. I squeezed my eyes shut so I couldn't see anything. My bed wasn't made when I left, but it was now. A current of shame made my mouth taste bitter.

"He dosen't mean it."

My eyes snapped open as I turned my incredulous gaze on her. She flinched and wilted. I turned away again guiltily. I never wanted her to look at me like she does father. Like any minute now she expected her heart to be ripped out.

"You- you could try and make new friends dear.?"

Red clouded my vision. My glare this time was full of contempt and anger and I meant to hurt her. Deep down I knew that in her own way she was trying to protect me but right then I didn't care. It hurt too much. It struck right at my heart. I had to get out of there before I did something I'd regret for the rest of my life. Snatching my shoes from where they'd fallen I whirled around and stalked out the door slamming it behind me. Fury making my motions sloppy I stomped down the stairs stopping at the bottom to shove on my shoes. Frustration and lack of balance made the job ten times harder than usual but finally I had my modified Doc Martens on my feet. The front door slammed behind me with glass rattling force.

About a half block away I calmed down. My Mom wasn't going to change. _I'm not sure she can._ So getting mad at her was pretty pointless. _She doesn't know what she was saying_. Glancing back the way I came I decided that I didn't want to go home just yet.

I grinned wryly. _I guess now is a good a time as any to go looking for some kind of dojo. Of course they'll have to be cheap. And have flexible hours since the superhero business isn't nine to five. Oh, yeah this'll be easy. Sure._

 **A/E/N:** I've never seen them explain where our favorite heroes keep their outfits except that one episode where Virgil was carrying his around in his backpack, which isn't feasible since they don't carry their backpacks with them everywhere. I don't know about you but this little detail bugged the hell out of me, for like months. So I came up with my own idea after much, much thought, and cursing my every pondering the question. If you want to use it yourself or just want to give me some advice on how to make the concept better then write me.


	5. Tell Me No Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I know some of you out there want to kill me for the extremely long wait. I can't say as I blame you. If there a story I was waiting for a update who had a slow poke of an author like me I'd be about ready to string her up by her heels after four months or so too. First off I'd like to say that the crossover with Kung Fu: the Legend Continues is mostly going to be confined to this chapter with brief, brief cameos from here on. (I just found the characters useful to explain a few things.) This is a Static Shock story. But to be on the safe side… I don't own Peter Caine, Kermit Griffen, or Kwai Chan Caine. Danielle, Jose, and Frank are mine but that is all.

A/N: I know some of you out there want to kill me for the extremely long wait. I can't say as I blame you. If there a story I was waiting for a update who had a slow poke of an author like me I'd be about ready to string her up by her heels after four months or so too. First off I'd like to say that the crossover with Kung Fu: the Legend Continues is mostly going to be confined to this chapter with brief, brief cameos from here on. (I just found the characters useful to explain a few things.) This is a Static Shock story. But to be on the safe side… I don't own Peter Caine, Kermit Griffen, or Kwai Chan Caine. Danielle, Jose, and Frank are mine but that is all.

Well for all of those who hung in there: MERRY CHRISTMAS!

P.S. I made the chapter really long to make up for the wait. Enjoy.

'

(Peter Caine's POV)

"Danielle watch your left side." A shaggy blonde head nodded as she reacted to my advice and strengthened her left arm. She did it just in time to block the side sweep I knew her opponent had planned to knock her out of the game.

Light glinted off green glass above a blossoming wry grin. "Peet-er," I quickly hid my own smile at the exaggerated whine my partner was putting out, "are you trying to make me lose?" Danielle giggled impishly and this time I couldn't contain my satisfaction. After six months the twelve year old was starting to act her age, due in part to a lot of play-acting on Kermit's part and as well as mine. Neither of us had ever exactly acted our age but two men pushing forty acting like teenagers was a much better fit than a twelve year old acting like she was pushing forty.

I took a good look at the pair and found myself amused at the two polar opposites. Kermit stood two feet above our little pixie. His dark almost black hair was back in the nearly military crew cut he'd had when we'd first meet as police officers, though the white forelock above the right temple had started to spread a bit. His craggy face was still dominated by the thick green sunglasses that protected his light sensitive eyes but I knew that beneath hid pale blue orbs that were almost supernaturally sharp. He was big all over, stocky and with muscles that bulged with every move under his light green muscle tee. He looked like the mercenary he used to be. Danielle was almost elfin in comparison with her large chocolate brown eyes barely contained by her pointy heart shaped face. Blonde hair cascaded to mid shoulder in a wild mane to rival the exotic fairy princesses we often teasingly compared her to. Her lean whipcord thin body was covered in the bright pink and sky blue spandex that her parents had paid for and expected her to use. My partner looked like a giant bear trying to capture a tiny hummingbird.

I went back to analyzing the bout. She moved with a grace that revealed her early gymnastic training whereas Kermit's style was economic and brutal. If this match were for real the small girl would have been broken and bleeding by this point. It didn't matter that she was nearly at the same skill level as him in her respective style. Kermit's fighting was a product of one principle: win. The two of them were now going at it to give Danielle an idea of how to fight a style not her own with someone who had completely mastered the art. As her primary teacher I'd decided it was time to switch her over to my partner for a while to help her polish her moves and adapt other moves that might mean the difference in a fight to her own. Kung Fu is a very good basic style but I am not one of those conservative hidebound senseies who put a lot of stock in form. My students don't do tournament circuits. Their reasons for seeking me out are often much more complicated than thirst for trophies.

My friend quirked his eyebrow at me and I nodded. I turned my back on the two heading for the other side of the room. Behind me I felt Danielle's aura shift focus and nodded slightly to myself. I wanted Danielle to know I had confidence in her abilities, hovering over her correcting her every move would make putting her with Kermit's group pointless which he'd just reminded me of, and for another thing I had to make my rounds with the other late night students.

All of who had their own sad stories. Danielle's parents owned a chain of very successful restaurants and had little time for the girl they had happened to bring into the world. They used their money to pay people like me to "baby-sit" dumping her at various schools to get her out of their hair. The other two here at this late hour were similarly cracked if not shattered in spirit. I kept my face politely interested as I watched Jose and Frank do slow motion kata since I never could project the serene mask my Pop does.

When I left Sloanville after getting the brands declaring me a Shaolin Priest I didn't realize the strain of having the heart broken drawn to you would be. My father and the Ancient made it look easy. I can't quite bring myself to say, 'Go to Chinatown. Ask for Caine. He will help you.' It seems too dramatic, but it doesn't seem to matter. Either their pain shines like beacons calling me or they somehow gravitate to Circle Dojo. A gang gunned down Jose's younger brother for example. The boy is one of the kindest souls I have ever met but his hatred for gangs borders on obsession. He wandered in on day desperate. He was trying to find a way to control his aggression before he killed someone.

After my supposed death when the temple was destroyed Pop was forced to wander the earth trying to find peace with the loss of his young son. As a Shaolin one can not let negative emotions stay and fester. You've got to try and dig them out. I thought I knew that. I thought that I could find peace with giving up being a cop to save my father only to have him leave me to search for my mother, who was also supposed to be dead, in Sloanville. I internalized a sigh. _But I couldn't. There were too many memories there._

A sweet chime filled the room. For a moment I was back six months ago, four days after leaving Sloanville which Kermit had horned in on by the simple method of showing up duffle bag in hand and an iron will to not let me go alone on the sidewalk outside my building as I left my empty apartment. Again Kermit was standing in front of me in a similar yet different dojo studio, one from a town hundreds of miles from here. He still looked like a FBI reject at that point in his uncomfortable suit and solid color tie. In his hands was a beautifully patterned wind chime. He was giving me one of his lopsided smiles. "Those dangling cow bells are too cliché." He paused and continued on softly, "Besides it made me think of you."

I couldn't see through the heavy green lenses but I wasn't an idiot. There was too much tension in the air, too much being left unsaid but still felt, for a simple gift from a friend.

Time seemed to slow as I reached out and took the strings. Our fingers tangled and I felt a brief shiver run through me at the touch of the man before me. _The man who left his job, friends, semi normal life to follow me._ I took a deep breath and looked into the green guards trying to convey to what I couldn't see what needed to be said. "Thank you." I put all my gratitude and warmth into those two words trying to express my acceptance of what was growing between us. His smile grew less nervous and I answered it with a soft one of my own thanking all the powers in the world that I'd found the strength to try again. After so many people leaving it was harder than I thought.

Returning to the present I turned to face the door and immediately started forward. It wasn't raining out but the poor kid standing in my doorway was one of the most bedraggled people I've ever seen. Even in all my years dealing with shocked victims. He seemed wilted, even his spiky blonde hair seemed to drupe. About 5'6" and a hundred sixty pounds with wire glasses perched on a very classical Eastern European face dressed like every non-preppie teenager around in a forest green tee and whitewashed baggy jeans the kid looked like he should be in a hospital. Gasping like a guppy he just stood dazed and clutching the bar on the door in his sweating hand as I came upon him. Up close he looked even worse. His eyes were totally unfocused the pupils dilated so I could only make out the barest hint of brown around the rim.

For a moment I my old instincts roared their head. _He's high on something._ Pop reached all the way from France to smack the back of my head. I took another look. And winced.

 _Christ._

I grabbed one limp arm and slung it over my shoulders wrapped my other arm around his back and started dragging him towards the stairs. The students had stopped what they were doing to stare. I couldn't really blame them but I didn't have time to stop and explain. Catching Kermit's eye I conveyed. - **Closing time.-** He gave me a nod. Confident that he could handle it I manhandled my newest up the stairs to our living apartments.

Years of dragging drunks home as a cop came in handy cause the kid was just as responsive. _One thing I don't miss -_ grunt- _is having someone talking my ear off, singing off key, or threatening to throw up on my shoes._

On the landing I was meet by Lo Se. Gray for as long as I'd known him The Ancient never seems to age any further. A head shorter than me slightly hunched and thin as a junkie the whiskered and spectacled old Asian man didn't look like he could hurt a fly. A mistake often repeated with the same results each time. The Shambala Master hadn't taken to the trail with me as Kermit had but everywhere I stopped he was shortly thereafter. The first time I asked how he found me he gave me his usual wide teeth flashing smug and enigmatic smile then proceeded to teach me. With my training being as spotty and half-assed as it was Lo Se had appointed himself my mentor opening his Apothecary in every dust-bowl and metropolis I happened to feel drawn to.

I was torn between the of guilt knowing that he had left his daughter and very well established shop and home in Sloanville to make sure I didn't bumble into too much trouble and the embarrassment that he seem to think I needed a babysitter. While at the same time feeling was grateful. Because being a Shaolin Priest had opened doorways that I had never known existed and painted a target on my back in bright psychic neon declaring "Good Eating".

A peppered gray brow rose in a silent question and I shook my head. I could deal with this. This sort of thing wasn't something you forgot. Vivid memories of my own first few days were never to be forgotten. Continuing past him to the end of the hall I stepped through the doorless entry and into my room. The past came at me and I quirked a lip in memory of teasing my Pop about living in a place almost identical to this. Bare brick and cement with only a bed (clothing kept underneath), worn pale wooden table with matching chairs, and some shelves containing dried herbs, thin leather bound books, and a slightly beat up stereo with accompanying CD's that only detracted a little from the ambiance; this was home and if felt comfortable in a way my high tech stylish places never had.

With a couple tugs I settled my burden into one of the chairs. Then heading over to a shelf I pulled down a clay jar. Jar in hand I went to the window and pulled a teapot off from where it had been hanging in the sun. Back to the table I grabbed one of the mugs that had been sitting in the middle. Uncapping the jar I took a pinch full of the ingredients and dropped it in the bottom of the cup. Recapping it I then poured sun-warmed water into the cup. Picking it up I pressed the cup into the young man's hands. "Drink." Like an automaton he raised the cup to his lips and took a drink, as I knew he would. Right now the poor kid's brain was overloaded chasing itself around trying to deal with all the input suddenly pouring in. One simple command would be a relief to follow.

As he drank I studied him some more. _About seventeen. Odd age, unless he's a late bloomer. Wait a minute._ I squinted, more out of reflex than real need, trying to focus and winced again. There were purple threads radiating throughout his chaotically raging chi, the greatest concentration swirling around his head. _The Bang._ I'd meet more than my fair share of Bang Babies because to put it mildly the damn gas fucked up lives. Even the littlest bit of it seemed to make your life a living hell. Either it made you loose your inhibitions, sometimes bringing out full out psychotic or schizophrenic personalities, or it caused families to hit the roof. The last couple months we'd dealt with both types, protecting people from those whose powers made them sudden dangers and trying to mend the emotional rifts and scars.

Having your parents call you a freak can be devastating to a kid even if they later take it back. It's hard enough when everyone else begins calling you names. It was really hard to keep calm with those cases. My own experience in the orphanage when culture shock caused me to repress a lot of my early life at the Temple leads me to over identify.

 _Still the Bang was almost a year ago why now?_ Focusing entirely on his chi I sifted through the knots and streams. A frown collected. _This is a little much even for a recent eruption of Empathy._

The onrush of alien emotions was like drowning in syrup. Nowhere to turn. Pain tearing at your insides as emotion upon emotion piles up. Can't connect to the outside world. It's like looking out through murky glass. Your chi reflects that conflict. And on the surface the kid was the typical eruptee. I'd recognized it immediately. Mentally I quickly covered myself. _As soon as I'd bothered to look anyway._ Now however it looked more complex.

Finally I found the origin of the purple energy flow. Tracing I ran into a block of psychic scar tissue. The energy kept trying to flow through it but most of it was being diverted. Only a few thin streams were working their way through eroded cracks. The rest was taking the path of least resistance. _Well shit._ I was at a loss to what had ripped through the kid hard enough to do this kind of damage but the blockage was obviously the cause of this current mess.

In high school science classes they teach energy can't be destroyed. One of Newton's laws I think. Due to observation I've learned Bang Babies generate their own energy either by drawing it from the sun or some other source like food for that glutton Slip Stream. So when the usual route through this kid was stymied the energy had to go somewhere. It explained the sudden development of Empathy and the jumble of energy flows. As I watched the new pathways became more imbedded and settled. It dissipated the faint hope I'd held that this would be temporary. I sighed inwardly abandoning my inner sight to find a pair of lucid eyes staring at me with questions boiling in their depths.

(Virgil's POV)

 _That's the last of it._ I shoved the package, a quarter pound of American cheese, into the meat and cheese drawer. With one final glance at the now semi-full fridge I shut the door. Bending over I picked up the now empty blue and yellow plastic bags littering the floor. As I walked around the table I crunched them into a ball. I popped open the recycling bin lid with my powers then dunked them in from five feet away. _He shoots he scores! The crowd goes wild! Yeah!_ Walking the rest of the way I noticed the blue plastic lid was a little warped. _Oops. Guess I used too much juice. Weird. I haven't done that in ages._ To be on the safe side I shut it manually.

My mad dash to get some groceries back in the house before Dad came home and killed me over I was left at loose ends. I'd practically shoved Richie out the door in my panic so he was no longer around to chill with. My stomach was full again due to a quick stop at Burger Fool on the way to the store. Sharon was at college so I couldn't bug her. It was a Sunday, which meant more likely than not there wasn't anything on the three hundred and some cable channels. Evening patrol wasn't for another couple hours in West Racine. With a sigh I gave in. _Guess I might as well get some work done._

Now officially martyred I trudged my way to my room. Flipping on the lights I took in the typical mess. My father's mantra of, 'If you're bored why don't you clean your room.' Popped into my head. _No way am I **that** desperate. _I plopped down in front of my computer and turned it on. As it was booting I took a moment to clamp down on my natural energy field. I couldn't explain how exactly I did this anymore than I could explain how I learned to talk. I just did it. The closest I could come was it was like flexing a muscle that didn't exist. Computers and me extra caution. Ever since I fried two computers at school when I got distracted I've been wary. Luckily no one had any reason to think I did it other wise I would have been neck deep. It's neat that I can control a computer without a mouse, yeah. True my Dad hasn't had to worry about money since I made Alva donate a significant amount of his for saving his boy- _And oh didn't his gratitude wear off fast! First kidnapping my best friend and partner then trying to suck us dry. Yeah. Thanks but no thanks._

My snort was covered by the various clicks and hums coming from the computer. The man has a lot of money but no morals. A frothing anger for what he did to Richie- and me of course boiled at my insides. The lights and computer flickered as my control slipped. Quickly I clamped down harder on both my powers and anger. _I **don't** want to fry the computer. Dad will blow a gasket if he has to buy me a new one. _

The sudden urge to check on Richie hit me. Any number of things could have happened since he retrieved one of the spare costumes he leaves up here put it on and headed out the door. _This thing with Alva's going to make me paranoid._ I squelched the insistent little voice in my head telling me something was wrong.

Frowning I bent over to retrieve the medical dictionary I keep next to my computer desk. There were two of mine and his costumes here, about three of both at the headquarters not counting the ones in the laundry, and Richie has several sets of his at his house with only one of mine there. I haven't needed to use it either. I haven't been to Richie's house since the Sci-Fi con. We still end up coming back here. We've never spoken about it and I never thought about it till now. _Ah, he just likes to pick on Sharon and mooch off Dad that's all._ Dismissing the thought I opened Microsoft Word.

Using a thumbnail I flipped open the cover of the paperback. On the inside taped down were two floppy discs: one green and one blue. Peeling back the one corner of the black electrical tape I slid the green one out. There wasn't a label on it on purpose, a little bit of security consciousness. That was the reason for the two colors so I could get the one I wanted on the first try. _Simple yet effective._ Securing the tape down I put the book in my lap as I inserted the disc.

With a few clicks I opened the file I wanted. Up popped an article for _Science._ I smiled at the long involved title; no word was less than three syllables. _Richie. You got lost in your brain again didn't you?_ I shook my head in fond exasperation. Brainpower is something I never had any problem with. Studying? What's that? Alva's version of Hitler Youth did try to recruit me after all. If that weren't true I probably would be either green with envy or frustrated as hell with a friend like Richie who can ramble on these days about anything he'd read expanding the original concept till the author couldn't even recognize his own work.

These days I have to stretch my mind to keep up with Richie but I'm not totally lost. Maybe I should resent losing my status as the smarter one in our pairing but I don't. The guy is my best friend. It would be pretty petty of me to want to be the best at everything. I still have the spot light. Richie's more than happy to let me take the lead, like when I ran for class president even though it was both our idea, he just doesn't like the attention the way I do. There's no reason for me to be jealous. And it was **my** idea to make money selling articles to magazines and newspapers. Common sense is one area where I have the edge. I saw pretty quick that the heroing business cost money.

My original costume came from my wardrobe and replacing torn clothes wasn't too hard. I'm a teenage boy. Parents expect you to need new clothes all the time. After a while though it was starting to add up, my second costume had been designed less for improved fashion and more for dire lack of materials, and when Gear came into being a whole new dimension of expense opened up. Electronics, raw metal, and parts they're not easy for jobless teenagers to get. Jobs were impossibilities. My short stint with Burger Fool proved that. Odd hours don't make for advancement opportunities more like unemployment lines.

So writing articles for magazines and journals for a hundred or less at a pop became our meal ticket. Richie as Dr. M. Walsh comes up with the technical and engineering revolutionary ideas and as Dr. F. R. Cohn he talks about medical research. I'm his personal editor going through fixing grammatical and spelling errors and changing the styles a little in each so no one will suspect they're the same person. It's a fair division of labor. Never in a million years can I come up with the breakthroughs and inventions he does, but when he writes them down he doesn't pay much attention to what he's doing because he's caught up in the beauty of it. So I clean up afterward often times using the medical dictionary to look up words I've forgotten ever existed since my talents lay more in the technical science area.

Most of the stuff Richie writes however never sees the glossy pages of magazines. To get anywhere at all in the science world you've got to have a reputation. First we had to get the fake names of our two guys well known and their ideas accepted at least in part. We started out small making little waves with veiled papers leading up to more revolutionary ideas. Since everyone could see that Dr. Walsh and Dr. Cohn knew what they were talking about no one ever looked very closely at the false credentials of both. The whole scheme was ingenious if I say so myself. Not only were we making money but also Richie's ideas were making life better for everyone in a way he couldn't do as himself.

It relieved a lot of my worries when we started doing this. For a while I was worried that we might be tempted to become as bad as the guys we fought. After all what was the harm in demanding a little gratitude in the form of money? We just saved you the least you could do is hand over your change? Maybe give us a free lunch. Soon we think we're better. That we deserve stuff because, hey we've stopped the lunatics from over running Dakota- doesn't it owe us one? Next thing you know we're Warlords enforcing the peace at a cost. Not the road I wanted to go down.

At least my little trip into the future proved I was going in the right direction. No way I'd be such a respected guy, with even the current incarnation of Batman thinking I was hot stuff, if I became just another hood.

Richie and I were still together. Strange but I can't imagine him not being part of my life. It just doesn't seem possible. I try but I can't come up with anything. Maybe that's why thirty years from now we're still living in each other's pockets. Can't say I'm disappointed. We don't look like we'd have a lot in common but there isn't a person on the planet that understands me better and I think the same is true for him.

Suddenly struck by loneliness I wished Richie were still here. It was almost a physical ache. I took a deep breath holding the air in my lungs until it burst from my lips. _Snap out of it. You can't call him up just because you're lonely. You'll see him in a few hours._ Hollow laughter filled my room. _I'm pretty pathetic._

Given a consistent enough pattern even I can figure out things. My fear of abandonment is what makes me crave praise and public acclaim. Its not because I'm truly arrogant as Richie sometimes believes. Its because part of me thinks if I make people like me enough maybe I can keep them to from leaving. Sharon's pop psychology books which I couldn't help but read since she leaves them all over the place had told me that much. What makes me beyond doubt a sad sap is I just got through remembering Richie wasn't **going** to leave. So rationally I shouldn't be feeling such a deep compulsion to hunt down my friend and tie him up.

Staring into the computer screen I couldn't help but sigh. _I just miss him. He's my best friend. Everything's always seems better when he's around._

(Richie's POV)

Warmth seeped into my hands. Not the burning painful scorch you get when you pull something fresh out of the microwave but the gentle lapping warmth of sun bathing. It was the first real sensation I could get a hold of. Everything else shifted, pushed back and forth in a flood that hurt, the sensation of rough warming clay in my hands was the first sign that the maelstrom was easing. The other feelings started to fade leaving me sensitized and raw. _What the hell happened?_

I was staring at a brick wall, a wall of a room I'd never been in before. It looked like it was in part of the low rent district. The bricks were crumbling a little and the mortar was stained and the few things adorning the place were cheap but it was clean. That meant it probably was in the not so great part of town but not all out where the Metabreed and the coke addicts slummed.

The guy in front of me didn't look like a crook either. Mid thirties with casually yet stylishly ear length light brown hair a narrow face with kind eyes, though there were something slightly off about them, in a snug cotton pocket tee-shirt showing off the nicely muscled arms, but not the muscle freak kind of a gym addict, laying crossed on the wooden table top.

He looked like the kind of guy who'd help you pick up your stuff after someone threw you to the sidewalk. Very cute in an unconventional kind of way. If I weren't already deeply and hopelessly in love I probably would have developed a crush on him in no time. He wasn't really looking at me though his eyes were directed right at me. It was more like he was looking thorough me.

I blinked feeling sheepish. Basically I'd just woken up in some strange guy's apartment with no idea how I got there. Sounded like drugs or alcohol. But I knew I hadn't done either. _Unless Alva's idiots were feeding me something besides sedatives._ I was starting to regret not going to the gas station and running some tests. _Oh, God I was zonked and this guy probably stopped me from walking in front of a bus._ Embarrassed beyond belief I blushed.

I didn't know what to say. 'Sorry? Thanks a lot for not calling the cops?' I felt a sudden rush of relief as I considered that. How the heck would I've explained? 'No officer I didn't take drugs. Evil scientists being funded by a corrupt billionaire kidnapped me subdued me and force fed me drugs in an attempt to bring a lawn sculpture formerly known as Junior back to life.' Oh, that would go over well. My mysterious benefactor was looking more and more like he deserved at least a fruit basket. "Um, hi?"

My quiet words seemed to bring my host's eyes back into focus and I figured out what was different about them. They were slightly almond shaped, which really didn't fit with the rest of his very Western face. He smiled. It was dazzling. I felt liked I'd been smacked upside the head with a stick. All at once I felt welcomed, safe, and a bit of yearning. His smile transformed him from oddly appealing to boyishly handsome, sexy, and cocky in a way that made me think naughty thoughts. My grip tightened on the mug as I returned his smile carefully. _Ugh. Too old for me. In love with someone else._ I reminded myself. All the while berating myself for being a sucker for a melting smile.

Desperate to get my mind out of the gutter I raised the cup in my hands. "What's this?" Now that I thought about it I really was curious about what I'd been drinking. I was the only one with a cup and the slightly bitter after taste still lingering on my tongue wasn't anything I recognized. Glancing into the mug I saw lightly greenish yellow liquid with bits of herb like things floating around.

"It's a dampener for physic abilities." At first I was too caught up in rough friendly voice and puzzling accent to think about what he was saying. Then my brain got ahead of my teenage libido.

"What?" Was startled out of me before it knew what I was saying. Regrouping I goggled at the way too calm face in front of I continued, "That's crazy! I'm not a physic. I-"

"Were just lost in your own head because pain, joy, hate, irritation, and a million other emotions swamped you and you didn't know how to handle it. Face it kid you just became an Empath." Hearing the capital E in that I couldn't help but feel light headed.

I shook my head in denial as he just looked at me with sympathy. "Nooo." At the same time I remembered.

At first it wasn't so bad, just a feeling of tiredness and a vague aching to be elsewhere, someplace safe. Some place with Virgil. Irritated with myself I'd pushed it aside thinking I was being the needy clingy cliché yearning for their unrequited love. In no way did I want my life to resemble a romance novel. I knew I wasn't the stereotypical macho man but there was only so much my ego could take before I threw up the stop sign saying, "whoa not happening".

After finding a pay phone and memorizing some gym addresses out of the phone book I set out on my odyssey. Only I found myself growing increasingly dizzy and bombarded. My head pounded and my eyes fogged. The world looked like the inside of a fun house. I stopped paying attention to the outside world and just began doing all that I could to hold on. A bright thin line shone through all the waves of color. No matter what tried to cover it over the shiny and iridescent glow gleamed in my awareness. Desperate I gripped that string, so fragile and weak, and held on. Love and faith- and **Virgil**. My link to sanity was pure Vee. _And if I didn't know I had it bad before I would now._

I opened my eyes without having remembered closing them to find Mr. Mystery still looking at me with the same compassion as before. For moment I held on to my disbelief like it was a safety blanket. _This can't be happening no way- This isn't real- He's lying-_ I could hear the 'crippp' as it was ripped from my fingers by the kindness on the face in front of me.

This guy didn't know me from Adam, why would he lie? Besides if he was a bad guy I'd eat my shorts, my Gear ones with the extra coating as sauce. He radiated goodness, almost painful sympathy, and sincerity- and fuck didn't that just prove his point? It was so much fainter and a hell of a lot easier to deal with but I **knew.** I wasn't just reading his face or his body language. Those were his emotions slipping in. I hadn't even consciously noticed but they'd ended up in my analysis anyway.

I shut my eyes again. " _Christ_." I hissed bringing my hands up to massage my temples trying to ease the beginning of a headache I could feel behind my optical nerves. "I don't need this." _Not on top of everything else._

"No one does. To tell you the truth if you said you did I'd be worried. The excitement of having power either wears off quick or you become all about having it and **using** it."

The emphasis on that word made me think of Ebon, Joker, and a dozen other bad guys I helped fight who thought that being different meant they were special that having power made them deserving of everything they wanted. And I also remembered how cool it was at first to know stuff everyone else didn't have a clue how to comprehend. That first gleeful rush of power had faded to be replaced by the realization that even Vee, who could do something more than make gadgets, would still spend the rest of his life one step off center.

At school I look at the other kids and can't remember the last time I felt the way they did. Vee learned it sooner. Looking back, after I'd became Gear, I'd reevaluated those days Virgil complained how being Static changed his life. Because now I feel it too. We'd moved on and in some ways out grown our classmates. Frieda never looked into someone's face and knew they would kill her if she didn't MOVE RIGHT NOW. When it came right down to it that's what made us different. More than the gas ever did. Fighting wasn't glamorous and exciting like in stories. Sure it felt good to save the day and I wasn't positive I'd be able to give it up if I had the chance but the days when I dreamed of being different now seem like things I should have been careful wishing for.

"I know I didn't want it. I just wanted to be a cop. Bust the bad guys and get a paycheck. Let my Pop handle the mystical crap that always seems to crop up. But life has a way of smacking right where you don't want it to. For me it was give up my nice little worldview or let my Pop die. For you it was the Bang and then whatever screwed up your energy flow. Got to say at least I had a choice. A no real choice at all choice but I did have an out."

I lowered my hands and stared at him. "What?" Sputtering I shook my head. "Now I know you're crazy. The Bang? Me?"

His gaze turned somber but he didn't say anything. Adrenaline pumped through me making me shift in my seat. I wanted out of here. Every primitive instinct left in my overstuffed noggin was urging me to get up and get away from this threat. Attack him if he tried to stop me. Just get away. _Because he knows. Or thinks he knows. And that's DANGER fucking OUS._ A spike of pain drilled through my head blinding me. I barely managed to keep from wincing. _Can't show weakness. Keep it together!_ Blinking rapidly I tried to force the dots obscuring my vision to fade.

Calloused fingers covered my left hand. My knuckles shifted under their gentle squeeze. It hurt. Oh, it wasn't that the grip was too strong, but it hurt in that it was so fucking kind. For the first time in a long time I felt my age. I just wanted this stranger, this grownup, to tell me everything would be all right; that he would make it better. I wanted to believe like I used to. I looked from the hand resting on mine to the face staring at me with such concern. Something inside me snapped and the urge to flee disappeared. I felt like I'd just dropped a boulder that'd been tied around my neck. Trust calmed my nerves and lessened the pounding in my head. Distantly I thought. _This isn't like me._ But the thought had no real power. This strange guy didn't mean to hurt me.

He must have read something in my face because he continued a small smile twisting his lips. "If I was following the lexicon now is when I'd change the subject following some weird tangent that really wouldn't lead anywhere and leaving you more confused than you are now. But I never liked having that cryptic crap pulled on me. The truth is learning how to deal with being an Empath's pretty easy. Problem is that no matter how much you learn you can't really control it. Emotion is the strongest thing humans have. You strip someone of everything, go right straight down to the bedrock of human existence, and that's where you find emotion. We're nothing without it and everything in our lives revolves around it. Yeah, I'm being philosophical but it's the truth. No matter how strong your shields are things will still get through. In fact you kind of need it to. Cutting yourself off completely can have some bad side effects. You've just got to learn what to do so you can control the gauge of what you receive."

Wide eyed I stared at him. "Who **_are_** you?"

The dashing smile returned. "Eighth generation Shaolin Priest Peter Caine at your service."

Once more things were starting to get a bit tight and I could sense the guy- Peter's- amusement. I rubbed the side of my head trying to ease the building ache. "God, I'm confused."

A hint of worry sparked in Peter's eyes and he grabbed my wrist pulling my hand from my face. He searched my face. "I think the tea's starting to wear off. Come on we'd better start on your shields before you blank out again kid."

Anger made my mind even fuzzier and I wrench my arm out of his grip. "Not a kid. I fight for a living."

 _Fuuuck._ I clamped my lips shut. _How in the hell could I say that?_ An awkward silence descended. The far wall suddenly became fascinating in an attempt to look anywhere but at the guy across from me.

"I believe you do." Solemn and sad described what I was picking up now. Chilled I rubbed the goose bumps that had risen up on my arms. My stomach clenched into a hard knot as I realized I really could feel what Peter was feeling.

Panic tried to rise up again. _I don't want this!_ A small voice screamed in me. _This is too much!_ Like with everyone else all my life there had existed a comfortable barrier between me and the rest of humanity. Now it'd evaporated. There'd be no hiding behind the niceties of lies. Empathy could strip the masks and lay bare the truth. And truth can be ugly and hurtful. I shivered. Then I took a deep breath and grabbed a hold of my composure. _Suck it up. Deal and move on like always._

"On the side of angels I'm guessing." Startled I brought my head back to face him. I'd lost the thread of the conversation whilst dealing with my fear and had to scramble a little to make sense of what he'd said. For a moment I flashed back to the beautiful smile that had shone on Vee's face this morning.

"Yeah." Slowly I nodded. "Me and the angels we're like this." I crossed my right middle finger over my pointer and held them up.

(Peter's POV)

Shaking my head at his antics I couldn't help but smile. _The kid's got sand._ _Good._ From experience I knew those with backbone handle world rocking easier. The fact that the kid apparently did something with the power he acquired from the Bang did surprise me though. Right off the bat I could tell he wasn't one of those power mad bozos going around getting what they thought was their due, his chi was way to pure for that, but he didn't really strike me as the kind to fight. _That'll teach me to judge a book by its cover._ Now that I thought about it- it hadn't really registered while I was practically dragging up the stairs- he was rather solidly built under those bulky clothes.

Assessing the kid all over again I noticed the little white scars on his left cheek, the kind you get from hitting a rough surface a velocity bad for your health, and the rough texture of the skin on his knuckles, from hitting something or someone. Yeah, the kid had been in a fight. One he'd won I bet. He had the air about him. Now that he wasn't half out of it with pain it was starting to reassert itself.

Part of me was proud of him. I used to be a cop I know what it's like to protect people and more often than not get nothing but bruises for it. But my protective side, that had driven me more than my adoptive father into the force, was horrified that this kid, who couldn't be older than seventeen, was putting himself in harms way.

Still saddened I couldn't help but wonder. _What's the world coming to when its heroes are too young to join the army?_

With an internal sigh I dumped my unease into the back of my mind to deal with later. Right now I had to deal with getting some shields around the kid's mind before the tea wore off completely. "Know anything about meditation?" I wasn't holding out much hope. It's not really a skill normal people pick-

The kid shifted sort of nervous like in his seat. "Yeah. It's useful when trying to, um, calm my racing thoughts."

-up. My eyes narrowed. _O-kay. Something he's not telling about that one._

"What's your name?" I asked. I was getting rather tired of calling him kid in my internal monologue.

"Richie Foley." He looked a little startled as he answered. Yeah, it was kind of weird that we'd been sitting here talking for the forty-five minutes and we'd only exchanged introductions in the last ten. That was life for you though if you get anywhere near the Shaolin. Twists and turns my ass. Freaking ninety degree turns and corkscrews in reality is more like it. After a while weird just stops.

"Okay Richie. Well first thing we're going to do is get you centered. It's not **really** necessary but it sure helps." _Definitely less frustrating._

Richie opened his mouth as if to ask a question then shut it. Giving me one last uneasy glance he shut his eyes. Watching his breathing even out I was impressed again. He dropped into deep meditation really quick. He must have been practicing quite a bit to get that good. As a child in the Temple meditation classes were extremely boring and the bane of all the children's lives. _He must have had a **really** motivating reason for learning._

Pitching my tone lower I began smoothly, "Now picture yourself standing in the middle of someplace familiar someplace safe that gives you a sense of comfort. Build it up filling in all the details. You there?"

Richie nodded silently while his body relaxed fractionally into his chair. I shook my head. Even though I'd gained his trust the kid still hadn't dropped his guard totally until just now. The wariness in someone so young was sad and indicated that Richie's life probably hadn't been good even before the Bang. Distrust that strong took a long time to develop.

Keeping my voice soothing I carried on, "Alright. This place is your mindscape. It's a representation of your psyche. We're going to build a barrier around it now so you can filter what reaches your mind. Pick something close to your heart. The first thing you think of to keep you safe and surround yourself with it." With my other eyes I could see the moment he pulled up his first shield. Frowning a little as I probed it I asked out of curiosity, "Ah, what'd you pick?" The faint blush that painted his cheeks surprised me.

"Purple electricity." He mumbled.

My eyebrows rose for my hairline. "That's an unusual choice. Most people pick something more well, solid. For example I use pale green jade." _Hmm. The purple's not that odd. I've noticed most Bang Babies seem compelled to use the color. Still-_ Speculating I continued, "It's kind of flashy. You'll need to draw something over it to conceal yourself. There are some nasty things that like too munch on sensitive people." Frowning again I considered. Most people don't need an extra cloak. One shield is enough to mask them enough so that they appear normal. Richie's purple electricity aside he still felt like a day glow light. The cause could be the abundance of energy he got from the Bang or the less subtle shield either way it looked like this kid would be going the extra mile. "Picture a thick dense blackness. Wrap it over your shield containing the light."

Almost immediately Richie's mental presence dimmed. He also became as highly strung as a piano wire. Dots of perspiration developed along his forehead and he began to shake slightly at the over contraction of his muscles.

 _That's weird._ I made a negating motion with my hand out of habit despite the fact that the only other person in the room had his eyes closed. The mental image obviously had a bad association for some reason. When dealing with the mind such things couldn't be ignored. They can have negative effects. _Nothing can be easy can it?_

"Okay. Scratch that. Let the darkness dissipate like fog." The green streamers from my teenage guest brightened again. I rubbed my forehead a little to ease the unfamiliar stain of having to analyze the swirling chaos of mental energies. "Pick something you feel would work." This whole episode was underscoring just how inexperienced I was. Not a good feeling.

Richie's signature once again faded to that of an ordinary person. _Wow. It worked. I was winging it there._ "What'd ya use?"

"White silk." The tiny up turning of his lips might have been a smile. Now that he was shielding I couldn't read him as well. "It doesn't conduct electricity well." The sort of science nerd answer wasn't one I ever would have thought of. Couldn't argue with results though. He no longer looked like a spring ready to pop.

 _That leaves one last step. Here's hoping._ I reached across the tabletop and gripped the kid's arm. He started a bit slipping a little from the relaxed state he was in. I gave myself a mental whack. _That was stupid. I should have warned him first._ "I'm going to check out the strength of your work. I'm not a telepath so I've got to touch you to touch your mind ok?"

Richie took a deep breath his face betraying his nervousness. "Yeah. Go on. Shoot."

Since I was in contact with him I could tell for sure something about what I'd just said had put him on edge but I didn't know what. _This kid's got a lot of trip triggers._ Shoving away my concerns I focused on my breathing dropping into meditation.

I opened my eyes to find myself in a grove next to a dark cave opening. Mist curling around my feet and dew clinging to the trees it was my hiding place back in my days at the Temple. It's sort of ironic that my gravestone was actually placed not far from here in the real world.

Reaching out my right hand I called for the physical tie between my student and me. A ghostly white rope appeared in my fist. Flowing along it I passed through my shields and towed the length of it till I reached Richie's psychic presence hanging in the darkness between minds.

First thing I noticed was that Richie was definitely into concrete visualizations. Hovering in front of the outer reaches of his mind I gazed on what looked like a finely woven silk wall. It wasn't really white more like an opalescent color that was slightly reflective. Not releasing my grip on our tie I ran along it. There wasn't a seam and on touching it my insubstantial fingers slid off instead of through. _Good work._ I sent a thought along the same pathway I was using to connect. _**-Richie drop the cloth.-** _ It took a moment then I was face to face with Richie's "purple lightening".

 _Impressive._ The lightening streaked and collided in multiple layers. It was so thick I couldn't see through it. Floating a little closer I almost got the shock of my life as a bolt shoot out and tried to fry me. _Shiiiit._ I dodged to the side for once thankful for all the gunfights I'd been in as a cop for leaving me with excellent hit the dirt reflexes. Dryly I sent, **_-Richie did you just intentionally try and kill your teacher? Because if you did. No more free lessons.-_**

A wave of horror swamped me. I shook it of before it could really dig in but it answered my question for me. It also made me wonder what exactly had happened to the kid that he had instinctual defenses set up against psychic invasion. Still it reassured me that Richie was about as well defended as he could be. From here on out it would be mostly adaptation and working together to see what worked best.

I was preparing to go back to my own mind when I saw a flash of something out of the corner of my eye. Squinting in the direction I'd seen it in I made out- My eyes snapped open wide. Turning my body to follow my eyes I made my way closer. _Wow. It really is._ Delicately I touched with my finger the slender silver thread I'd seen extending from Richie into the distance. From one moment to the next the thread, which was no thicker than a fishing line, seemed to contain shades of green and then purple then nothing. It was really no surprise that I'd missed it, the thing was so fragile and new I was almost afraid to breath on it for fear it would shatter. What I couldn't believe was that it was there at all. Shaken by my discovery I quickly slipped back into my mind.

Releasing Richie's arm I couldn't help by stare at the kid. Now that I knew it was there I could see the tendril extending out from him and reaching out into the distance. I shook my head. "You can come back Richie."

Brown eyes blinked behind lenses as Richie came back to the real world. He scrubbed at his cheeks. Lines of pain around his mouth had faded and I could tell that his shield was working.

"Man that was a trip," he began, then looked away, "Ah, thanks."

Fondly remembering what it was like for me, the huge relief of the quiet, I smiled. "You're welcome. I've been there." Drumming my fingers on the table I tried to think how I should broach my final revelation. "Richie, about when did whatever that blocked your natural energy flow happen?"

Two blinks then, "Late yesterday. Why?"

 _He really does move quick._ I leaned forward. "You've bonded to someone."

"What? What does that mean?" Confusion clouded the boy's eyes and his hands made some little fluttering movements. He wasn't sure what I meant but he could feel it even if he didn't know what it was he was feeling. I was sure of it. This kind of thing resonates in you.

Carefully I chose my words. "It means that mentally you've created a link between yourself and someone you care a lot about." _Love. Can't live without. Never want to let go of. That sort of thing._ I wasn't sure I wanted to lay this on a teenager. They can barely handle their emotions for crying out loud. "You'll feel what they feel and vise versa. You can't block them out the way you can the rest of the world. In fact I'm surprised you're here. Overriding the need for physical contact with your link partner this quickly must have taken a lot of will power."

Understanding broke on Richie's face. He gave a weak laugh. "No."

I nodded, "Yes." His turned absolutely ashen.

"I've- I've go to go." His chair scrapped across the floor with a harsh screech when he stood up to fast. His legs knocked against it almost making him fall.

I got up too. "Wait." By the time I'd gotten around the table he was out the door. I heard his feet pounding down the steps and felt him leave the building. Going over to the window I saw him break for it. Why this should break him of all the stuff I wasn't sure. Maybe he reached his quota. To tell the truth I was a little impressed that I managed to keep him here for as long as I did.

I felt Kermit come up behind me and leaned back into his embrace as his arms curled around me. Still watching the distant figure I shivered as Kermit said into my ear, "He ran." Kermit had been through it all with me. The ups and downs of my emotions that came with every change, the times when I myself wanted to forget about the choices I'd made and deny what I was.

"Yeah."

"It's not going to work."

"Yeah." You can't run far enough or hard enough to ever get away from yourself.


	6. Calm Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry I've been gone so long. First year of college, finals and all that.( Don't ask how they went. For my history final I started out all comprehensive on Egypt and towards the end I was going "Reformation bad". Summing up history form 4000 BC to 1600 AD is not my idea of fun.)

A/N: Sorry I've been gone so long. First year of college, finals and all that.( Don't ask how they went. For my history final I started out all comprehensive on Egypt and towards the end I was going "Reformation bad". Summing up history form 4000 BC to 1600 AD is not my idea of fun.)

Thanks to my beta, Backpack.

 **-Calm Before-**

(Virgil's POV)

'Hurry up and wait.' Military jokes are dry and mercilessly true. Unfortunately they also apply to more than the military. The superhero business for an example. In fact you look in the superhero dictionary and you see **patrol** _vti_ ( **patrolling, patrolled** ) hurry up and wait. I swear it seems like every night Gear and I spend our time rushing around the districts of Dakota saving the most desolate alleys ever seen from the horror of rats on the rampage- and those are the frisky alleys.

There are times- when my mask is itching my cheekbones all along the edge and my feet feel like they're going to fall off they're so numb- that I would give anything for something to break up the monotony, even Ebon doing a strip tease in the mall.

 _Right now I'd kill for another deserted alley._

My eyes examined the dark skyline determinedly. It was well into the a.m. but as always the lights of the city kept true darkness from obscuring the city streets. It was obscenely ironic that in a place where darkness never falls that cruelty and depravity hides in the light and not the shadows.

I'm not one for sitting around philosophizing. I'm more of a go in swinging kind of guy. Instinct and adrenaline rushes pushing me through to the other end of the fight. Force me to sit on my hands though with nothing else to do but think and I can angst over a situation with the best of them.

Muffled thumps and cries that continued to rise up from the building across the street, the one I was pointedly not looking at, were easy to hear from our perch. Crouched down behind the ledge on this industrial roof of a convenient **Dollar Mart** with Gear I couldn't control the churning of my stomach or the way my jaw muscled clenched so hard that they, and my teeth, ached.

The inability to **do** anything was the reason for my budding ulcer and future root canals.

Domestic abuse.

The words just aren't sinister enough. They're too small. They don't rock you like they should. And the slaps on the wrist for committing it, if the situation weren't so horrible, would be laughable. If I charged down there right now, shattered the door open, and dragged the scumbag out into the street like I **really** wanted to do the most the cops could do was lock him up for the night. That is if the woman chose to press charges against him. The sad fact was she probably wouldn't. Heck she was more likely to press them against **me**.

Lessons bitterly learned confined me to sitting there monitoring the situation giving me plenty of time to sit and turn symbolic phrases. _Poetry in the middle of the night. Edgar Allen Poe would be so proud._ My eyes closed creating darkness. No, I no longer believed I could save the world. My optimism and naïveté had taken a brutal beating. Protecting Dakota had shown me that all too often scum was untouchable. _Alva was just the beginning._

My eyelids snapped open at a particularly nasty smash. I went on alert but when the shouting continued at its normal volatility I let myself go back to standby. Oh, part of me mourned the loss of what I guess was my childhood but if I was going to make even my little bit of the universe better I had to know reality. If I could help it no one was going to die. If I had to give up my rose colored glasses to accomplish that than it was worth it.

 _It's just… I hate this._ Grimly I turned to Gear. I didn't want to talk. Right now talking would be the straw on that damn camel's back. I just wanted to know I wasn't alone. Too many nights I spent without him to back me up. When he was still just a voice on the Shockbox. Too many nights like this one had taught me how much I hate being alone. One look at his face however and my stomach fell to my feet with a splat getting gravel and tar stuck to my insides.

After we settled here, the one roof in line of sight without needles or beer bottles littering it, I didn't look at the house. I couldn't face the helplessness looking at it made me feel. _Sort of defeated the purpose._ I thought derisively. _But I knew Gear would do it. That he'd pick up my shit. He's so good at that._ I hadn't said a word; I'd just immediately focused my gaze on the distant horizon pretending to be keeping an eye out for trouble. I would have done anything just so long as I didn't have to look at the two story homey building with white siding and pretty little flower boxes where a man was beating up his wife.

Gear hadn't turned away. As I expected. I hadn't thought much past that. I shouldu've. His profile mocked my cowardice. If I'd just looked… But no I had to pretend this wasn't happening. I had to drop my load and make him try and carry it all. I forgot how close to home this struck. Turning away from the house had also meant turning away from my friend and only when _I_ needed comfort did I think to turn back. What about him? What had made me think that I was the only affected by this?

As the seconds ticked by I watched my partner unsure what to do. I couldn't- there was no recognition in his eyes. They stared out in the direction of the house through that green faceplate of his seeing nothing. His arms were wrapped around his middle in a self-hug. Every muscle stood out rigidly straining against the green and white of his outfit. At the same time he was hunched in on himself like he was curling up around the pain. I didn't have a clue how to comfort or even reach him. My selfishness had taken that chance from me.

A foul taste soured my mouth. Such a brave guy shouldn't look like he was literally trying to sink further into himself. Breaking glass punctuated the air making Gear wince. Impotent anger burst into a towering blaze of fury and something in me snapped. There were valid reasons for staying put. We serve as extensions of the police, capturing people and then turning them over for the courts to judge and punish, the same restraints on them apply to us.

Right then I frankly didn't give a damn.

Flicking open my disc I energized it with an abandon. I threw power into it like it was water, using instinct instead of control because too much of my mind was occupied snarling with animalistic fury at the man I wanted to throttle. Hopping on it I crouched on one knee. There was a tingle that sizzled along my nerve ends from the excess energy. I threw off my body's natural reaction to the snazzle frazzle of the extra electricity across my skin and rode the high it gave me.

As I glided my way across the street I dodged a beat up station wagon. The old man driving it stared at me out his window, shock coloring his face for the brief moment he flashed by. Absently I snorted. For a second there I'd been puzzled too. These days I do more flying than walking. Sometimes I forget what it is like to be at ground level. A short mental footnote the incident disappeared into my memory banks as I came up to the malignancy hiding behind the 20'ish Betty Crocker innocent façade of suburbia.

The door was pitted and scarred with a fresh coat of yellow paint trying to cover up the wounds. Bronze numbers _734_ were nailed about head high clashing with the dandelion door color. Stopping in front of it I jumped down. My sneakers absorbed the shock from hitting the cement stoop with barely a quiver. They were a design of Gear's. That fact sent a jolt of guilt through my system that jabbed at the red buzz in my head. With a force that would have been bruising if not for my deceptively thin protective gloves, another thing Gear had come up with to keep me safe, I rapped my knuckles on the wood. At that moment there wasn't any indecision in my mind. Confident and sure with icy fury buoying me I stood in front of the door without a hint of self-consciousness despite what I was about to do.

The door reverberated with the shouts of a man that grew louder as the seconds passed. The man who opened the door looked nothing like the first man, the one who had set the precedent for our handling of such "acts", he also looked nothing like the stereotype. This was no blue-collar worker in a dirty wife beater and suspenders. He towered over me standing at about 6'4". He was an extremely clean-cut white man in his early thirties. His features were very classical Western European features. Attractive with dark brown hair gelled into spikes and startling brown eyes he looked quite respectable at first glance in his neatly pressed white button shirt and black slacks. He resembled nothing more than a stockbroker who was trying to be causal but couldn't let out his starch. On second glance though you would notice the hard set of his face and the cold glint in his eyes. And if you knew what you were looking for the red and abraded condition of the knuckles on his right hand.

His lips thinned at the sight of me and I could almost see the wheels turning behind those shark's eyes. Fame and pushy reporters had made me easily recognizable in Dakota. _Good. That means I can cut right to the chase._

I met his eyes with my own. Not trying to find his soul. If he had one I was sure it was locked up in the deepest recesses of him and had stopped rattling the bars ages ago. Normally I'm not a sight to strike fear into anybody, on purpose. Bang Babies have enough bad press. I'm the grinning superhero that saves your life and cracks jokes while I'm at it. _Not this time._

Calling on every chilling look, every pants' wetting growl, every moment of irrational fear I'd experienced with the Bat I wrapped that attitude around me like a cloak. I could practically feel the numbing chill of a barely restrained berserker taking over my body. It seemed to permeate me and for some unidentifiable reason it was comforting in a seductive way. It seemed entirely possible to believe I could kill. The hindbrain primitive part of me that wanted this bastard scared gleefully pounced on the fear I saw in the invisible shiver that racked his tall frame as he sensed the change in me. Not looking away I stated, "Stop. Hitting. Her." My voice was as warm as liquid Nitrogen and as deep as the Pacific.

It was hard and scary. It was the best impression of Batman I'd ever pulled off. The simmering depths of the anger I was feeling had added the essential quality that had always been missing before.

There was a clatter and I looked behind the man to see his wife had been standing in the hallway. She'd dropped a plate on the hardwood floor. She was staring at me with wide blue eyes. Or wide blue eye. Her left one was rapidly swelling shut. She bent to retrieve the dish and I found my eyes attracted to some circular purple marks revealed from under her sundress's flower printed sleeve. They were space perfectly to be fingerprints. I looked back up at her face and saw shame reflecting there. She quickly looked away. Her long blonde hair swung with the movement obscuring her face. I didn't know what to say. Disgust mingled with my rage.

Turning back to the Stockbroker I saw he'd managed to dredge up some angry bravado. Probably telling himself he's got no reason to be afraid of a teenager. _Big strong man like you can't be afraid of a 'boy'._ But he was afraid of me and the anger he'd thrown up over that fear poorly disguised it. The mask slipped in places. Under it I could see he was still scared and that fear was making him even angrier. The snarl twisting his face made him more ugly than menacing. After all the truly insane people I've gone up against he looked like a clown. "You have no Power over me. You're not the police."

Buoyed by my detached rage my answering smirk was nasty. "Well, you're only half wrong." I conjured a ball of electricity over my open palm. It swirled ferociously with energy. If he'd dared to touch it the pale purple electricity would have seared the flesh off his fingers. "I do have power." My glove-encased fingers squashed the ball as they closed around it. I speared him with my eyes. "But you're right. I'm **not** the police." The silent message hung in the air like the sword of Damocles. Whatever else could be said about him I knew he wasn't stupid when I saw his face blanch and another shiver make its way down his body. The sheer pleasure I felt seeing that shocked me out of my sadistic joy. I wasn't sure whether I was bluffing or not. For a moment I faltered. _What am I doing?_

Then the devastated and resigned image of my partner popped into my mind's eye. It hit me like a gut kick. My doubt was slashed to pieces. _He deserves to feel fear._

Holding on to 'Batman' I turned my back on the noxious man. I opened my ride. Clearly saying. _You're nothing. Not even worth guarding my back against._

Richie

The pressure was starting to get to me. My shields were still holding but I wasn't sure how much longer I could take it.

I'm still not certain exactly how to describe it. The closest I can come is, it was like standing on an island with a soap bubble surrounding that tiny bit of sand. It was in the middle of a vast ocean with nothing else in sight but thrashing waves roiling up in a summer storm. Dark clouds overhead, heat lightening sizzling the air, and the waves climbing higher and higher rolling around and over the top of the thin opalescent layer keeping me from drowning. In places the bubble would thin from the strength of the waves and I would feel the water hit my head. Only this water stung like acid rain.

It was _/ **Rage** / _and _/ **begging** /_ throbbing and slipping in and out of one another. Desperate, I tried packing the holes with sand but it was an emergency fix and the bubble didn't mesh well with sand. Throughout it all there was a constant thrum in the air of / _anger/guilt/searching/sadness/_ it wasn't as alien and jarring as the feelings trying to breach my hastily rebuilt shields. It was more an echo of my own distant emotions, which had been suppressed by the need to keep my island from going under.

As the race to keep up in my head grew more and more intense I started paying less and less attention to anything else. The first clue I got that Static was about to do something stupid was a flash of increased _/anger/protectiveness/FierceDenial- **NO/** _ Then there was the swish of cloth as he flew off.

Heavy and bogged down by the morasses of other people's emotions I paused in shock for precious seconds. Blinking I struggled to push the waves back, slashing my way through with a determination and power I'd been sure I didn't have left in me. Finally managing to push the encroaching emotions back far enough to get some breathing room I opened my eyes. Static was gone. The empty rooftop was totally Static-less. I swung to the edge of the building. Gripping the cemented block in my gloved hands I wished I could feel the bite of the rough stone, wanting that pinch to ground me in reality. All I felt though was a sweaty slide inside my self-made gloves. _What is he doing!_

The urge to follow him pressed at my spine. Leaving him alone to face the fight was the antithesis of everything I am. Pure panic swamped me at the idea of getting closer to the maelstrom making me shake. Bile filled my mouth and my insides clenched. A cold sweat drop slowly rolled down along my spine.

 _I can't._ I thought hysterically, gripping to reason with whitening knuckles. _I'll go insane._ I could already feel it plucking at me, trying to draw me over the edge. I clamped down ruthlessly on the panic-stricken laughter that threatened to bubble up. Part of me whispered that if I gave in now I'd never come back.

Most people are afraid of going insane. It's natural. They, however, never give it considerable thought. They take one look at the idea and back away quickly assuring themselves that of course they're sane.

They don't have to worry it might already have happened. The frantic pace of my thoughts, the way the burn and scramble, the way some days that they just take over scares me. Do you know what it's like to be afraid that you can't stop?

There were days I'd wish I could just slow down. I learned how to meditate with a frantic thoroughness just to get some peace. The idea that one day I could lose it and end up trapped in my own head truly terrifies me. I have this picture of myself sitting in a corner rocking back and forth drool dripping out of the corner of my mouth and a vacant expression in my eyes.

Half conscious of my actions, I activated my parabolic mic. It was truly surreal hearing Static's conversation and feeling the emotions accompanying his words. _I'm officially up shit creek without a paddle and there's a hole in my boat._

When we met for patrol I- I couldn't come up with a way to tell him. I'd been struggling with what had happened to me for hours. Everything seemed raw. It wasn't like my superbrain, which had happened so gradually no one, not even me, had noticed. This was slam-bam-thank-you-ma'am. How was I supposed to? What was I supposed to say? 'Oh, Alva's life-sucking chair has opened a new channel in my mind. I'm an empath now. Yeah, and I accidentally bound us together when we were sleeping on your couch. By the way can we cuddle?'

When I'd laid eyes on Static the need to touch almost had me in his lap. It wasn't sexual; it was just plain physical need. I felt like I was starving. My hands had twitched so often when I'd checked a move I was sure he'd make some joke about Parkinson's any moment. I recalled what Peter said about needing to be with your link partner and silently cursed. An hour later and I was still aching. That's when we heard the first cries.

My shields had held up under the vague wisps of emotion I'd felt brush against me as we flew over Dakota. Though I hadn't mentioned it to Static this had been a test to see if I could still handle patrol. Luckily my new ability seemed almost as innate as any Bang-induced power. Couple pointers and I was set. Only…

I felt for the victim. Sympathy opened a crack in my shields and I didn't have the experience yet to know how dangerous that is. The next violent surge of emotion knocked me mentally flat. Before I knew it I was struggling to keep my hastily thrown up shield from falling apart. I was flooded. Not only with the emotions rising from the brick-a-bracker house dragged at me. Pricks of all the people's feelings around me wove a background of emotions to hammer at me. Good and bad, each adding their own weight to the nasty miasma. With my control slipping I hadn't managed to even keep the flow between Static and I to the trickle that I'd forced it to. The channel between us was still wide open. It was resisting all my attempts to clamp down again. Slipping and sliding from my control.

I couldn't help it. I'd managed to close off everyone else until they were vague impressions once more. _Peter was right_ _again_ , I resignedly acknowledged. There was a hole in my shields that the link plugged and now that it had been widened it didn't want to shrink again. No matter how much I shifted it was always there. I felt it all. / ** _hate/ pleasure/satisfaction/_ ** It made me feel uneasy and scared. Because it felt like something was crawling under my skin whispering to me begging me to let it out. It didn't feel real. It didn't feel sane. And under it pushing it forward was / _sadness/resolve/protectiveness/_.

I didn't know Virgil had that kind of darkness in him and I didn't know what had made him loose it tonight. I heard him threaten to kill the slimy bastard and I could tell he meant it. And I felt him realize that he meant it. There was a flash of _/awareness/fear/._ Then it was submerged under _anger/protectiveness_.

I knew I should feel scared. I knew that the homicidal rage that had been real. But I knew one thing with all my heart. There was no one in the world I trusted more. He hadn't killed despite the way he felt. Actions are more important than emotions. I'd just started to truly **_know_** that now that I could sense what people are feeling.

Feeling more sensitive and vulnerable after being beaten against the metaphysical rocks I clutched my hard regained control around me as I watched Static fly back up. His face was stony but I could feel how jumbled up inside he was.

Off balance I found myself saying as Static settled his disc on the roof. "What did you think you were doing!" It was harsher than I intended. Static recoiled slightly then straightened defensively. A flash of guilt swept through me. _But I was WORRIED damn it. Not every D.A. is going to think prosecuting a superhero is a waste of time._

The first time Static had run into a domestic abuse situation he had ended up having a very humbling talk with a District Attorney about how since he was underage and the city's savior it would be useless to try and hold up the charges the battered wife of that piece had laid against him but what he had done had been very stupid and foolish. I heard it all over the Box, he forgot to turn it off when he was arrested. _Scared me out of my mind. I was frantic, not knowing whether I should try and break him out of the police station or not. Damn fool was lucky they didn't try and fingerprint him._

Static straightened his face closing down. At the same time he slammed shut connection between us. "Just put out an Extra Eye and lets go home." Inside I winced. I knew he didn't know what he was doing. He was just protecting himself by shutting away his wounded emotions. But the sudden absence of him in my mind brought tears to my eyes. Turning away from him I took a deep breath trying to fill the aching hole but it was useless. _God, I didn't realize how much I depended on the link already. It really hurts._

Wanting to get it over with so I wouldn't have to endure the gut melting pain of standing next to him but not _feeling_ him I tapped one of the sections on Backpack. I heard the confirmation beep and one of the EE's popped out. The little unit was rectanglish about 6 inches long, 4 inches wide, and an inch thick. A short-range sensor with limited thinking capability it was designed to "keep an eye" on hot spots. I input the coordinates of the abuser's house all the while feeling Static's eyes boring into me. I attached the little 'bot to the side of the building facing its target.

It blended in with its surroundings adopting the color of the cement block. Sophisticated compared to most tech on the market, though nothing compared to Backpack, it would keep watch on the household and immediate surroundings. If there were signs of increased violence it would either alert us or call the police by taping into the closest cell phone based on the grading of its severity protocols. Each one had five different voice patterns to use. Several of the little things dotted Dakota's sky scape without anyone knowing. Their purpose was to decrease the stress of trying to be everywhere at once.

Turning back around I found he was still a silent hulk of misery, closed off and bristling. "Static-" Apologetically I reached out almost touching his cheek. My hand hovered centimeters away. _Please._ I knew I was asking for something he couldn't give, something he had no notion he was withholding, but I ached and I just wanted him back.


	7. Thunder Rolls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay people I'm trying to write from inside a guy's head so this chapter is a little cruder than the last just to give you a heads up. Also I can hear the screams at me for the end already but I swear it fits perfectly with Virgil's character. Finally this is more from a techie prospective but I'm not all that knowledgeable about electricity or anything related. If my facts are off I'm sorry but I'm not claiming omniscience.

A/N: Okay people I'm trying to write from inside a guy's head so this chapter is a little cruder than the last just to give you a heads up. Also I can hear the screams at me for the end already but I swear it fits perfectly with Virgil's character. Finally this is more from a techie prospective but I'm not all that knowledgeable about electricity or anything related. If my facts are off I'm sorry but I'm not claiming omniscience.

 **-Thunder Rolls-**

(Virgil's POV)

My Mom explained to me once that we curl up around our hurts because instinctively we're trying to protect them. When she told me I didn't really understand. She also used the word 'boo-boo'. Since I was about six I guess that's understandable. With age though comes some kind of wisdom- even if I'm not sure how much good it is- and experience. Both things have taught me how right she was.

When Gear went off on me I clutched my emotional pain as tightly as I would a gut wound. Clamping down on everything, shutting off my emotions, because it hurt and I didn't want to leave myself open.

Maybe a couple a years ago my response would have been different. Back then F-Stop terrified me and my only defense were deflecting jokes. Heck, I was almost pressed into a gang because I couldn't think of any other options. I'd learned a lot since then. The F-Stops of today didn't scare me. Hardened criminals don't give warnings shots before they try and kill you. They don't hesitate before pulling the trigger. As Static I've been in **real** fights with drug dealers, smugglers, rapists, and thieves. None of them got where they were without stepping over bodies. None of them ever went down without a struggle. I'd gone up against desperate men who weren't above using guns, fists, teeth, and anything handy really. _Leading to many a Tetanus shot and shocking the hell out of me. On TV they never show the cops getting beaned in the head with toilet seat covers. The first guy that bit me got an extra hour glued to the ceiling._

Hours upon hours of hard earned reflexes had piled up since the day of the Bang making my reaction almost automatic. This was a battle just in another form. _Strike back._

"Just put out an Extra Eye and lets go home." Meant to wound my voice was the crack of a grinding glacier inching its way to another ice age. Deep down I recognized the tactic was prompted more by the need for him to back off so I could go home and lick the blood off my soul without an audience. Motivation didn't matter. It worked. Richie had never looked at me with such shock and pain before. As I stood firm I saw his face slowly slip into something that looked like heartbreak. A stab of guilt poked me but an even bigger sense of 'ha' pushed it aside.

 _Run away. Run away._ My mind mocked me with Monty Python. I silently told it to shut up. As an experienced vigilante I knew the value of falling back to recoup.

Whirling around Gear busied himself with deploying the little spying device. I watched him feeling sort of a numb satisfaction. I could read the lines of strain in the tense muscles of his back. His arm jerked up to retrieve the 'bot lacking his usual grace. As he kneeled down to place it in the line of sight of both the target house and the electric poles I could read the stiffness in his spine. My hit had scored, maybe deeper than I had expected.

Even that didn't squelch my desire to pull a quick retreat. I had to clench down on the urge to do just that becoming a miserable pile of tightened muscles. _I just want to go home and forget about this night._

When he turned around I tensed waiting for the next round. Gear just stared at me his eyes searching for- something. Confusion skittered around behind the protective barrier I'd put up. _What does he want?_

"Static-" A million things were voiced with my name. Our years of friendship communicated all the shades of feeling that only I could understand. Gear's hand hovered entreatingly next to my face. Sensing the warmth of it there, not touching but still being felt, my soul unfurled. The apology being extended was just as audible as the words that had rendered me. Green tint not withstanding Gear's eyes, filled with more emotions than I could put names to, begged me to forgive. / _Please/_ Seemed to whisper plaintively past my ear.

Harsh words shriveled into dust under the undeniable fact that Richie was my **best** friend. Looking into his eyes I saw what I missed before and I knew that what he'd said was prompted by the fear and concern he'd felt watching me make an ass out of myself. It was so obvious I experienced no small amount of shame at my own reaction.

All friendships have fights and things said not meant. Ours just doesn't have many. When they happen though it's like an explosion. They liquefy the insides and rip up everything in their blast radius. _Maybe they wound so damn much because they are so rare?_

Truly, when we met Richie clicked into my life like a piece that was missing. So when we hit a rough patch its like 'whoa what's going on here?' Luckily for us both holding a grudge isn't one of my strong suits. In fact I usually forget that I'm supposed to be mad at somebody if I don't take time to think about it before hand.

Forgiving was simple. My heart didn't want to let this guy go and it didn't want to remain broken. From one beat to the next I was happy again. Fleeting and barely acknowledged was the impulse to rub my face into the outstretched palm imploring me. Instead I reached up and engulfed his hand with both of my own.

Even with our gloves separating our skin I felt him. Felt his relief and remorse. Our connection stretched into the future. Standing there on the rooftop, our joined hands next to my left cheek, I felt like the whole world could see us and our destiny. _Friends forever_. Mirth crinkled my eyes as I grinned easily at my best friend. Prompting one of his signature quirky smiles. The sight of it on his once pained face wiped away the last traces of my grief in a blinding moment.

I squeezed his hand between my own then released it. "Come on buddy. Let's go home." This time the words weren't a longing for a retreat but for a rest. It had been a long night. That reminder of the past dampened my spirit slightly but I shook it off. _Friendship mended, no more fighting, no more worries._

(Richie's POV)

" _Hold on to a true friend with both hands."_ It was a Nigerian proverb Virg told me when he came back from Africa. He'd been full of those and stories about his time there. I remember being jealous about his enthusiasm for the land of his ancestors. Then being the teensy bit irritated when he wouldn't shut up. But standing on that rooftop with my hand clasped between his two I remembered again and felt warm tinglies all over my body. The hole in my soul had been plugged yeah, the perpetual warmth of his presence had flooded me replacing the emptiness that had ached so bitterly and newly raw, but also Vee had told me how much he cared. _Somehow that guy always finds a way to say a lot without saying anything._ I smiled fondly to myself. _True manly behavior there. Why talk when you can grunt and gesture?_

With a sigh I focused on the skyline. I wasn't flying high enough to have to worry about airplanes but I didn't want to ram into an unsuspecting pigeon. In the semi dark the buildings and streets of Dakota ran together in a blur beneath me.

 _I should go home. Mom'll probably notice if I don't._ My thoughts were half hearted. I was trying to convince myself and I knew it. There were good reasons for going home but… _I don't want to be there._ Hauling up short I hung vertically in the air looking over the rooftops toward the one over my house.

The soft ' _Sshhh'_ of the rockets keeping me airborne were the only sounds audible this high up. _I don't want to feel my Father._ I admitted to myself. After all it is one thing to know something and another all together to feel it. All my theories about what went on in his head weren't proven. I didn't want to know for sure. There was a stubborn little spark of hope in my heart and I knew it would hurt to be extinguished. Turning in the direction of our headquarters I leveled out again.

 _My shields aren't in any shape to take being around people anyway._ The excuse sounded hollow even between my ears. To tell the truth I'd been staying at the gas station more and more these days. Mom always assumed I was a Virgil's and covered. She didn't want to call attention to herself or me by telling anyone I wasn't coming home.

Flying through the cool night air, feeling it smooth over the exposed skin on my arms I wondered if Vee ever felt that he could disappear and no one would notice. _I did didn't I?_ Shivering a little at the thought remembering the two days I'd never get back.

 _Full circle_. Dropping in altitude I landed on the gas station roof. _I just can't escape what happened there._ The gentle lapping of other people's emotions at the edge of my consciousness was a constant reminder. Then there was connection to Vee. With all the distance between us it was like the sound of a far-off song. The beat of the music was still audible. I just wasn't able to understand the words anymore.

With a sigh I opened the concealed trap door on the roof and dropped into the workshop controlling the short burst of power to the rockets with a carefully orchestrated series of mental commands to keep from breaking a leg. _It's a pity the mental discipline I use to control Backpack and my other gadgets didn't prepare me for this._ There was a creak as the trap door swung shut. _They're nothing alike though. Sending out commands is like talking just not always out loud. Receiving information is like reading only in my head. It's not **real**. _ My mental interactions with machines lacked the essential quality of life. They were flat and one sided whereas the sensations picked up by empathy were Dolby Surround Sound and 3-D.

Pulling off my helmet I looked around at the things I had made and the projects sitting half done. Ideas rushed in from just looking at them. With practiced ease they were pushed aside and filed. I'd made peace with having a power that manifested not in myself but things. Now I was jacked into the very emotions of others. _Another semi useless talent_. Setting down my helmet I sighed. _It's more of a liability than anything if tonight is anything to go by. Besides, I feel kind of dirty peeking into people's minds._

(Virgil's POV)

I can't say what it was. But even though I'd normally have dismissed our fight to the mists of foggy recollection- something about what had occurred niggled me as I rode home.

 _Our reactions were off_. I realized sinking lower on my disc as I powered it down. Trailing sparks for three feet all the way home isn't very subtle after all. _Why?_

Patrol isn't an exact science. Dumb stuff happens all the time. We go in too early. We fire too slowly. A corner doesn't get turned fast enough. Just stuff that can get us killed- no big. Adrenaline sometimes makes words and incriminations afterward harsher than intended. It's something we've learned to deal with through the months. Nothing like what happened tonight. This wasn't a shouting match full of 'thank God your safe' 'I thought I'd lost you' 'don't do that again!' It was a fight. A kind of short one but it was still a fight. The two were totally different things. _But why was it a fight?_ The situation had all the parameters of a shout out. That's not what happened.

 _Something was different. What?_

Hopping down into my room through my open window I folded my ride absent-mindedly. I frowned trying to pin down the indescribable something that had hung in the air around us. _What was it?_

With an exasperated yank I pulled off my goggles and mask. I threw them down on my unmade bed. Then reached up and tousled my hair letting some cool air at my sweaty skull. My gloves came off next with a couple sharp jerks. They didn't come off easily, on purpose. Frowning in weary familiarity I let out an internal sigh. _I know losing one mid-flight would be a real pain in the ass but it's sort of annoying at the end of a long night having to fight even one more thing._

Finally freeing my hands I flexed my fingers a few times. My skin always felt extra sensitive after all the time spent covered. Gloves are as an essential part of my costume as my mask these days. Fingerprints and DNA are too precious to leave behind. When we bleed we always destroy the blood some how. Flash burning is the method I usually use. You can't get any information out of ash. Gear carries ammonia grenades to dissolve his genetic markers. Grinning wryly at my own grim considerations I shook my head. _Being a hero is complicated._

Holding a glove in each palm I directed a quick but precise zap to both gloves. They folded into squares a ¼ inch wide resting in the center of my palms. Pressing the tiny pieces of material to my Static shirt near the bottom edge I released another couple jolts of the same amperage. Pulling my hands away they remained stuck like they were crazy glued on. The substance my shirt was coated in was the polar opposite of what was infused to the rest of my costume. In fact it was the only thing other than my underwear and socks that couldn't shrink.

Richie had developed the stuff as a way for us to hide our costumes without having to lug them around and possibly losing them or getting caught with them. I can still remember my panic when the cops wanted to search my backpack. There are days I truly think that I would have failed as Static Shock if it weren't for Richie. Either that or punked out because it was too hard going at it alone. Robin complained so much about Batman and his cold attitude. Maybe I got the better deal having someone at my side with a sense of humor and compassion but I had to learn on my own all the little details that went with a flashy alias. Without Richie then Gear it would have been like trying to hold back a busted dam with bare hands. _At least with him to back me up it was two sets of hands._

The only annoying thing about this particular piece of help was that I had to leave the clothes on while they shrank or they would keep shrinking until they couldn't get any smaller, like my gloves, and the whole point was to not be carrying my costume. If I wanted to have a quick transformation into Static I had to be wearing it so I only had to take off not put on. By leaving the clothes on as they shrank they stopped when my body impeded them making them easily concealable under my civilian clothes. This, however, presented me with a unique problem. One I hadn't known how to bring up with Gear.

I ran a hand down the sleeve of my duster trailing sparks that spread like fire to engulf the entire piece of clothing. It rapidly began to recede.

A quick grin flashed over my face as I recalled Gear admonishing me to pick amperage I didn't use as a weapon as Static for this. I could just picture the look on one of Dakota's villain's face if my costume began to shrink during a fight. _Although I think Shiv's got a little fruit in his loom so he'd probably enjoy the show._

As I waited for my coat to attach to my shirt I gritted my teeth trying to ignore the shiver that coursed down my body in response to the slow slide of the fabric up my arms combined with the prickling of pleasure I always felt when electricity brushed me like gentle butterfly wings. My cheeks grew warm with embarrassment even though I was completely alone. The few experiments I'd done once I noticed had led to- messy results that made me feel like a hormone driven teenager. _I so didn't know how to tell Richie about it._

When my coat had finished fitting itself to my shirt none of the blue or gold finishes flashed anymore. It looked like I was wearing a painted on black tee. Looking closer you might see a fine line running directly down my chest where the two sides of the coat met but that was only if you got really friendly.

Unbuckling my belt with a quick snap it joined my mask on the bed. Next I brought my right hand down on the front of my thigh. I let loose another flash of power that wreathed my pants in purple bolts. Resolutely I ignored the caress of electricity until it had abated and instead watched my pants continue to slither up my legs never failing to be a little afraid in a purely male way that they'd go up **too** far despite the assurances Gear had given me. When they came to rest mid thigh I sent another wave through my feet. My boots began pulling in bits and pieces until they were transformed into what seemed to be regular black sneakers.

Finished I just looked like a guy who didn't know the eighties were over and thought spandex was still all the rage.

With a little snort to the fashion gods I pulled the shirt over my head. It joined the pile on the bed. My shoes I kicked off into the closet. They landed on the dusty pile of clothes that would someday soon be going to the Salvation Army lining the bottom barely making a thud. Shimmying the shorts down my legs I thanked Richie for the stretch of the deceptively tight clothes. I walked out of the pool of fabric on the floor then bent over and picked it up. Dropping it next to my shirt I grabbed my belt and folded it up like an accordion. Finally it clicked together making a rectangular stack about the length of my palm. Retrieving my 'blast shield' goggles from the scattered superhero costume on top my sheets I gave them a few deft twists. Looking like a cracked open neon yellow clam shell it wasn't the fashion accessory of the year but- fitting my belt and mask into the thing and sealing it with another trickle of static electricity- it certainly wouldn't give me away as Static Shock.

Keeping the wallet-sized hunk of plastic in my right hand I snagged the shirt and shorts. Once in the closet I ran my hand down the inside right wall increasing the pressure slowly as I went down. The special sensor I'd developed triggered the release and a panel slid down with a hard click revealing the cache where I kept my Static stuff and Gear emergency costumes. It wasn't very big because I'd didn't want to alert anyone that I was making holes in my walls. These days Richie could make a better designed hiding place but I'd made this one when I first became a superhero. I felt proud of it. Like third grade art project proud. Maybe it's not as well made as one I could make today but I put a lot of work into it. I remember the satisfaction of completing that clay doggie on my own. Remember the pride I felt giving it to my dad and seeing him smile. The little black Scottish terrier named 'Scout' still served as a paperweight in Pop's office today. Despite being a little foggy on definition I still feel warm and fuzzy every time I see it sitting there.

My brows furrowed as I dropped my costume on top of the others and let my right hand drop away releasing the catch allowing the panel slide back up. Somehow the analogy rang a bell with what had happened earlier.

Leaving the closet I closed my eyes visualizing what happened. _Okay. We heard-_ The vicious cries and thuds reverberated through my memories. Pushing past them I continued on. _We set up a watch. Things were all fucked up. I was anxious and fuming and I just plain didn't know what to do. I wanted Richie to make it better but he was hurting. That made me so mad. I went down and threatened the guy. I enjoyed his fear. That scared me._ In the flow I didn't barely acknowledged the repugnance I felt this time. _Gear screamed at me after I came back._ Letting my thoughts run I recalled what happened. _That hurt. I was just trying to stop that guy from hurting him and he yelled at me. It was like he didn't even care that I did it for him-_ My eyes snapped open.

 _For him?_ My laugh sounded fake and hollow in my empty room. _No. Nuh ah. I didn't do it for him I did it for…_ Groaning I stumbled over to my bed. Sitting shakily on the edge I reviewed what happened again. _God, I did. I did it for him and when he yelled at me it was like I was five and Cindy Lou Windfall had just stomped on the flower I gave her all over again. I was hurt that my- present- was rejected._

A sick feeling took up residence in my stomach. My actions over the last few days were starting to take on an ominous look. A pattern was starting to emerge that I didn't like. _Oh, God. All the times I wanted to- to find Richie and tie him up, to keep him with me, the fact that I can't go five seconds without thinking of him, the way I want to kill anyone who hurts him. Not just the wife batterer but Alva too. Jesus Christ I wanted to tie him up and that didn't even seem weird to me! I sound- I sound- I sound like a stalker. I sound **fucking obsessed**. _

Looking around my room with sickened eyes I saw all the things I collected of Richie's. Half the books on my shelves, the clothes on my floor, in my closet, the files on my computer, hell even the costume I wore, they all came from Richie and they were here like I was hoarding them.

I wrapped my arms around my stomach not knowing what else to do. _I thought I escaped this._ Sour liquid filled my mouth. Richie and I had talked about the effects of the gas. One pretty consistent one seemed to be obsessive behavior. Plenty of Bang Babies showed the signs. Adam's was with his music. He almost killed for it. Ebon's centered around leadership and getting his due. Boom's was the quick score to the point that he'd use and abuse his sister to get money. Axel sacrificed his humanity pursuing power. Puff and Onyx stick to bounty hunting despite all their failures like dogs with bones.

 _And I'm obsessed with my best friend._ My laugh this time was bitter and grinding. _At least it's not someone who hates me._ With my powers it would be hard to stop me from doing something stupid to them or others. Not even taking into account how the conflict of wanting and not having might have warped my mind. I wiped harshly at the unshed tears that had collected with my right hand.

I shifted and lay down curling up into a ball. Staring at the wall unseeingly I asked myself, _What am I going to do?_ I'd never kept a secret from Richie before. I'd never wanted to before.

 _Except for the fact that electricity gets me hot he's knows about every aspect of my life._ I defended myself. _And that doesn't involve him. It's- it's private._

It's damn embarrassing that's what it is but at least jerking off was a normal teenage thing. Something I learned about around the time I started doing my own laundry and had that mortifying talk with Pop. Richie didn't need or want to hear about how I "spank the monkey". We never talked about that kind of thing but if the subject ever came up. _Unlikely._ I'd tell him. I'd tell him anything if he wanted to know. Richie was the person I told everything to.

Truthfully he had a much more reserved nature. I'm not like that. Not with him at least. I spill my guts all over the place.

How was I going to be with him and not blurt this out? This wasn't a little thing. _And it definitely involves him._

The obvious answer was to avoid him until I could figure out how to get un-fixated on him. Panicky just visualizing that I dismissed it quickly. Closing my eyes I let it sink in just how dependent I was on Richie. _I **need** him._

 _I'll have to tell him._

 _I think I'm going to throw up._


	8. Lightening Strikes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter may require a hanky people and **MAJOR WARNINGS** for **non-con**.

A/N: This chapter may require a hanky people and **MAJOR WARNINGS** for **non-con**.

Sorry people but it's going to get worse before it gets better. I've never tried to write something like this before. I was trying to stretch my abilities with sad results for one of my favorite characters.

Also I included a Mary Sue character, see if you can spot me.

Lastly, Merry Christmas people! (Yes, I know that some of my dear fans, I mean you lovely people taking the three minutes to quibble about it because darn it I love a good debate where I have a chance of being impaled for saying the wrong thing, aren't Christian. Heck, I'm a Deist or at least that is as close as I get to a religion. If you don't know what that is look it up! Anyway I just like the trees, eggnog, and presents that come with Christmas, which you know isn't part of the true Christian interpretation of the holiday any way and was just tacked on in the last couple hundred years. That fat man ain't Jesus' daddy after all. So since I despise "political correctness", please as Cordelia would say, "It's just not saying true stuff." I'm wishing you a Merry Christmas. Get over it. Accept your present and move on.)

Lightening Strikes

(Virgil's POV)

Several hours had passed since I'd come home from patrol. Sleep had evaded me like a prostitute resisting arrest, with a nasty left hook and several foul words thrown in for good measure. Eyes wide open I saw nothing but the same tile ceiling they'd been pointed at for as long as, well, as long as I'd been staring at that particular part of my room.

It kept running through my brain. Leaving bloody footprints behind with every circuit.

 _I've got to know where he is every moment of the day. To the point that my lame ass excuses are starting to get that glossy sheen._

Using our superhero-ing as an excuse I've practically isolated him from family and friend alike. _I can't say he's spent more than fifteen minutes with anybody other than me for the last three weeks._

 _I know **I** haven't bothered to hang with Frieda and Daisy in forever._ There were no acts to remember or lies to spin with Richie. He was just this part of my life that I didn't have to figure out. _I could rely on him to be with me and really be with **me** not some image of me in his mind_. Being with him was right, comforting. It felt so good. _So good that I didn't notice the way my life revolved around him._

Everything he gives me I keep. Even crap like the doodle on a cocktail napkin from Lo Tao's shoved in my desk drawer. _Yeah, and I had to get up and make sure it was still there after I thought of it just to prove to myself the depths that I'd sunk to._ It was there. Crammed in among the pens and key chains it mocked me with its teriyaki stain and hand drawn schematic. Frankly, I was beginning to feel surprised that I hadn't built a shrine out of his used bubble gum.

 _I touch him all the time reeling him in when he wanders too far like he's a two year old._ A hand on his elbow or an arm across the shoulders to keep him near me, it was sort of insidious how thoroughly my behavior reflected my obsession.

Groaning, I clenched my fists at my sides. _Hell, next to me he's got the highest body charge of any human I know because I **mark** him for heaven's sake! _ How I managed to rationalize that as making him easier to stand my powers in a crisis situation I haven't quite figured out yet. It makes him feel better to me. That's why I do it. Pretty glaring is the fact that I never told him about it. It was pretty simple to do. I just enveloped him in my natural electrical field. It hadn't seemed sinister. The first couple times really were an accident but then I started doing it deliberately. In fact the frequency at which I did it had been increasing. _What have I been doing?_ I wondered not for the first time.

It all kept adding up, every damn time I looked at what I'd done, no matter how I twisted it, no matter how many hours I worked it over. The only thing I accomplished was enlarging the list.

There were new depths of scared I discovered there in my bed. My bones shivered and my stomach felt like it was digesting itself. In a way it was worse that it wasn't premeditated. My actions were purely subconscious. Which meant I never even entertained the thought of considering their consequence or morality.

I'm a vigilante. These days in the land of superheroes-that-can-see-through-walls-and-run-faster-than-NASCAR-formula-one-cars we're pretty well respected. According to the law however we're criminals. We're breaking the law catching people that otherwise would slip through the cracks. A sticky point since morally both the people and the police support us. The crux is the public trusts us tights-wearing superpersons to do what's right to protect them. If I couldn't tell right from wrong I didn't deserve that trust. I could turn out to be as dangerous as any of the people I've fought against.

The notion stripped me of my sense of self. I'd never questioned the fact that I was a good person before. Not when it came to the important stuff. Growing up I had firm examples of right and wrong in the shape of my parents. I tried to be like them, tried to make them proud of me. To think that I was capable of tossing all my morals to the wind to trap my best friend- it was like a betrayal of the foundation of my life.

The fact that I did them to **Richie** seemed to grind the knife in deeper. _Damn the gas, F-Stop, and Alva just for good measure._

Crazy thing was- terrifying self-realizations aside- Richie's reaction was what had me sweating in panic. Desperately, I wished I could keep it to myself. Contradictorily I wanted to drop at his feet sobbing. I wanted him to pat my head and come up with a way to make it all right again. Deep down I believed he could, even, though in my head I knew that was insane. It wasn't going to take him too much longer to figure out all the things I had during the night. _Probably less._ When he did…

He'd have every right to be scared of me. To never want to see me again. Just using the other metahumans as an example he would know it was a bad idea. A really bad idea. He might stick around out of fear. That would be worse than him leaving. The truly sick thing was that despite that I would take it over never seeing him again. Not for the first time I thought, _This is really not healthy._

The ceiling had turned a lighter gray than a half hour ago. Meant that I'd have to get up and go to school soon and face the music. Rolling over I faced the electrical socket in the wall under my window.

Sleep was pressing at the insides of my cheeks in that itchy way. My restless mind had denied it for the last part of the night but I was tired and freaked out. I'd driven myself half nuts in the dark.

Letting my natural electrical field rise out of the shield of my body I reached for the electricity flowing through the wall and pulled. The raw power zinged like the first sip of pop. It fizzled through my nerve endings easing the fatigue that had been weighing me down. The light bulb in my ceiling flickered erratically until I stopped. _Must have been more tired than I thought._ Taming the wild energy flows I converted it to the bioelectric energy that fuels my body.

Wide-awake I rose out of bed and had to sit back down when the world spun. _Forgot how loopy this makes me._

It was a fake kind of recharge. Sleep doesn't just give us time to recoup it also gives our brains time to process the sensory perceptions that we can't consciously figure out. Doing what I did was the cheap and dirty version of sleep. Not for nothing was it a last resort. Often I felt as if things weren't being processed quite right while I was in this state.

With the sense of mania edging my mind I forcefully focused on the motions of getting myself ready for school Standing in the middle of my room fully dressed I clenched my hands into fists to keep them from tremoring. I wanted to run away and never look back. I wanted to go hide under my bed until I was thirty. I wanted so bad to not know what I knew. I wanted to go back in time and stop the Bang. _Missed my shot there._ I wanted to hold my best friend tight and not have to wonder about my motives. I wanted to get today over with. I wanted to put it off.

Realizing that some of my spiraling emotions could be blamed on substitute sleep remedy #3 I groaned. _Real bright Virgil._ Pressing my palms into my eyes I laughed helplessly _Shyeah. Right._

(Richie's POV)

 _…bought a ticket for a runaway train,_

 _like a madman laughing at the rain,_

 _little out of touch a little insane,_

With a groan I opened my eyes. I could almost feel the strumming of the guitar in my veins. Staring at the ceiling I listened to the tune that Backpack had picked up from the local radio station to wake me up. _How damn appropriate._

 _just easier than dealing with the pain,_

 _runaway train never going back,_

 _wrong way on a one-way track-_

Smashing the depression that seemed to be hovering in the air I cut off the melody. The silence felt almost alive and for a second I wished I'd left the music playing. Shivering I threw off the orange and brown afghan I'd pulled over myself before I'd collapsed last night. I felt blurry and bogged down. _Guess I shouldn't have done so much last night._

Scratching at my bare chest I padded my way to the laundry room in search of clothes. _But I wanted to fix my eyes and then I got started on the prelim work on those new gloves and the soldering took two hours alone._

The clarity was a little disconcerting though. It seemed that my solution had worked even better than my glasses and the goggles in my facemask. For a guy who started wearing glasses in third grade it was odd to have 20/10 vision. Everything was a little too close or the depth was off. I knew it wasn't real just my mind trying to adapt.

Making a quick pit stop I relieved my bladder then went over to the washer. I sifted through the clothes in the basket pulling out clean boxers and a solid outfit, including a new Gear costume. Laying it all in a pile on the top of the dryer I headed over to my shower and stepped in. _There are advantages to sleeping in the buff._

Cautiously I turned the hot water knob till a weak stream flowed down just missing my chest and only spattering my toes. It took a minute to warm up but the water heater that I'd installed was much more efficient than store models. Turning up the hot and cold at the same time I fiddled till it was right. When it was perfect I tipped my head back enjoying the stroke of the water over my face and chest. The niggling anxiety that had plagued me all-night and lingered into the morning melted under the flow leaving a grimy residue I could barely feel. Standing there I soaked in the warmth of the water indulging in a very physical pleasure.

Opening my eyes I reached for the soap dish. _All good things must come to an end._ After rolling the bar in my hands several times I put it back. Stepping out of the stream I suds'd up starting on my upper arms. I finished my upper torso and moved back under the water. Back to the soap bar then on to the bottom half. It's a ritual I've done thousands of times. I can do it in my sleep, pretty much did after my three hour tour on Alva's Island.

Goosebumps rose up under the film of soap at the memory and I quickly rubbed them away. The whirl of emotions around me increased in strength then settled back down. Like when someone drives by with their radio cranked up. Gritting my teeth I ducked my head to make sure my hair was wet and grabbed the shampoo and started massaging it in. Eyes closed head back I frowned. _Why is this bugging me so much?_ Moving under the water I felt the slick runoff trailing down my back.

Testing my reactions like probing a loose tooth I let my fingers drift down to the puckered raised scar on my right thigh. _Jimmy shot me here._ I brushed it lightly then raised them to the knife crease under my left armpit. _Drug dealer had a plastic knife._ Higher up I stopped before I touched the round whitish patch on the back of my neck. **_Brainiac._ ** My heart skipped like a skittish colt and my lungs froze for a second.

Swallowing heavily I opened my eyes. I reached out to touch the shower wall just to make sure I could. Feeling the rough metal under my palm I calmed. With a sad little laugh I turned off the water. Though it was better than I'd done the first couple days after my little panic attack made me feel just as helpless. _Okay, that's it. I hate getting fucking kidnapped._

Cold cement seeped the warmth from my feet when I stepped out of the stall. The chill of the outside air was a mockery of Virgil's warm arms. Rubbing my arms futilely I wished he were here. I clung to the poor guy for days after. It wasn't bad right after. The Justice League freed me and everything was going to be **oh-kay**. Either I was high on adrenaline or plain in denial but when it really sunk in I freaked, big time. The only thing that got me through it was Vee's solid presence. _IF I had the guts I would have asked him to stay yesterday._

A little depressed by how quickly I'd slid back into my dark mood I pulled the towel off its bar and started stripping the water from my hide. Done, I padded over to the dryer and picked up my clothes. _Maybe I can get away with an arm around the shoulder at school._

Shaking my head I pulled on my boxers. _Pathetic._ Working my way through the layers I called Backpack. He scuttled into the room and up my legs settling around my back. Pulling on the last bits I ruffled my hair flicking off some of the last water drops. Snagging my shoes from the alcove between washer and dryer I slipped them on.

Completely dressed I headed into the main part of the gas station. On my work table amidst coils of wiring and microchips lay my backpack and beside it my new glasses. They looked just like my old ones, since I used the old frames, but the lenses I'd manufactured were utterly non-corrective they instead contained a holographic interface to Backpack to make it easier to receive certain types of information from him when I wasn't wearing my facemask. Settling the familiar weight on my nose I was ready. Out the door I blinked in the sunshine then I was on my way to school.

(Sharon's POV)

 _Snap. Crackle. Pop._ Stirring the scrambled eggs in their fry pan and listening to the heat cook them I mentally recited the old Rice Krispies ditty. There was a shuffle rustle of pages turning behind me as Daddy read the newspaper. The quiet thunk of his coffee mug hitting the table made me smile. It was nice having Daddy home if for no other reason than Virgil tended to listen to him when he yelled.

Frowning I contained another sigh. Things had reached an impasse. After realizing that my brother was in love I realized I barely see him and barely know him. For a while after Mom died he was always underfoot. He clung so hard that I guess I pushed him away just to gain some breathing room. It's rather disturbing when you realize your interaction with your brother consists of three sentences a day delivered at high volume.

All day yesterday I kept trying to talk to my brother but it seemed we were always missing each other. Finally I gave up and went over to Adam's. Coming home this morning I was determined to talk to my little bro

With a few last flips to make sure the eggs were brown around the edges I turned off the heat and started scooping them on to the waiting plates. Flushing a little I remembered the cooking tips Adam had given me in his kitchen when I mentioned how much Virgil's back talk ticked me off. _Can't beat kisses for positive reinforcement._

Grabbing the plates I turned around and felt my heart skip a beat. "Crap Virgil! Where did you come from!" Luckily my hard work didn't hit the floor but I wanted to throw it in the twerp's face for scaring me like that! He was sitting there in his chair next to Daddy giving me a confused look. I gritted my teeth stalked over and dropped his plate in front of him.

Daddy looked up from his paper and did a double take. "Wow son. I didn't hear you come in. Good morning." He picked up his cup and took another sip then went back to his paper completely missing the flash of unease that crossed Virgil's face.

 _What was that about?_ Little bro's reaction was out of proportion for such a simple thing.

Sitting down I poked a largish lump of egg. _Well he's here. Now what?_ I didn't know how to bring it up. Daddy's presence was having the opposite effect of before. Instead of giving me comfort it made me feel completely foolish. _This would be hard enough to broach alone. I feel like I'd be betraying Virgil talking about this in front of Daddy._

 _He's being awfully quiet._ Frowning I watched Virgil eat like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Which was a Twilight Zone moment. "What's with you?"

As soon as the words were out of my mouth I knew they were the wrong ones. Daddy glanced up from his paper and gave my brother a concerned look. Eyes darting in his direction Virgil gave me his usual cocky grin and said, "Trying to die quietly from food poisoning Sis. You must be practicing." I saw red. He saw me. Before I could do anything he slipped out of his seat and was out the door.

Standing up I yelled after him, "You ungrateful brat!" Seconds after he was gone I swore. "Damn, he's gotten good at that."

"At what?" Meeting Daddy's confused eye's I almost said _'Provoking me to change the subject'_ at the last moment I waved it off.

"Nothing Daddy." Sitting back down I began poking at my eggs again. Thoughtful now I gazed at the leftover food on Virgil's plate. _He hit my buttons just right._ Suddenly I had the feeling that whatever was going on with my brother was bigger than I'd assumed.

(Richie's POV)

 _I never thought 'I'm drowning in teen angst' would be so literal._ Shaking off the press of others' emotions I waded my way to the locker I share with Vee. It wasn't really that bad. Mostly. I just never realized the importance of the right hair-do before… three girls I'd bumped into were on the verge of bursting into tears because the heat had led to frizz and someone was quietly freaking because they forgot their English assignment.

While I was twirling open the lock I felt him approaching. I tried to ignore the way my body tingled as he came closer.

"Hey." _He frickin' **purred.**_ I barely managed to suppress a full body shudder. _It's not fair._

Looking up I was overwhelmed by his grin. The combination of beautiful teeth and sensual lips, so brilliant and happy, made my heart stutter in my chest. Moving on to his eyes I sank. All the warmth that I'd been missing shone from his face and for the first time I felt safe and loved. Somehow it was if there was no one in the world but the two of us.

Him leaning up against the rows of lockers looking so damn debonair in his black jeans, black shirt, single button at the neck winking in the light, and scarlet red silk shirt overtop, me standing there books in hand dressed perfectly to contrast in light kaki cargo pants white tee and green patterned shirt overtop. / **joy/here with me/** Buffeted by the feelings flowing between us it felt like the perfect moment.

Still caught in his eyes I returned "hey," and felt my face flush a little at the breathy fangirl way I'd said it.

Vee's smile grew bigger then both his face and his emotions sobered. / **nervousness/fear/determination/hope/** He glanced away then back.

 _Shut up._ I tried clamping down further on what I was picking up. My good mood was souring, as his emotions became less up lifting. _I don't want to be a mood ring. I want to have emotions of my own._ It hadn't escaped my notice that despite the color scheme we were practically wearing the same outfit. _It's so junior high._ Belatedly I tacked on. _And we're **not** dating._

Snapping back to our conversation I saw more than felt the consternation on Virgil's face, "I hear we're having a big test in Bio today."

"Ye-ah?" I wasn't expecting that. In my head almost heard an echo of words that had died a stillbirth. Disturbed I slammed down even harder. It started to hurt. Like when you grip something too tightly and your hand begins to turn white.

Still there'd been rumors for weeks about the test. _What's he stalling for?_

Flushing a little he straightened up, "Look, I-" He stopped abruptly. His eyes tracked something to the side.

Turning to see what sent him into a stall I saw someone heading down the hall that I'd never seen before. She was surrounded by a gaggle of girls. I was surprised to notice that they were the debs of Dakota High. Sandy Cartwright, whose father owned banks, and wouldn't go out with a guy less than two years older and had to own a car, preferably a Beemer, Marcia Michaels who everyone called M and M like it was the cleverest thing ever whose mother sent her designer clothes from Paris, as well as the rest of the Bitchy and the Beautiful. Normally they shone with their own confidence and self-awareness of their own importance. Now however they seemed diminished and smaller flittering around the new girl like attendants waiting on a queen.

When I finally caught a good look at the new girl I saw why. Her complexion was the whitest of healthy cream accented by lovely long eyelashes, artful eyebrows, and subtle makeup. Salon perfect rich vibrant brunette hair topped it off. With bangs that barely brushed her brow and a dark length that flowed gracefully past her shoulders. It shifted gracefully with the tilt of her head as she listened regally to one of her subjects.

A Victoria Secret model would have been envious of her curves. Slim and stunning, her outfit was a combo of a tasteful white blouse cut to show of those assets mixed with a mock Catholic schoolgirl tartan skirt that brushed muscular and sleek thighs way above the knee. Dark brown leather boots curved sensually around each calf completed the ensemble. Never in my life had I seen someone so compellingly beautiful. Her outsides were perfect, absolutely flawless.

Curious I automatically reached out empathically. Like a guy automatically moving closer to get a better look. When I realized what I was doing I was disgusted with myself. My closer look was pretty close to being a Peeping Tom.

 _What am I doing?_ Before I could pull back I brushed against her and stopped stuck in amazement. Despite the joyous face she presented she was full of cold blankness that seemed willing to suck in the unwary that dared her edge. Layered over that was a watchfulness, a sort of hungry anticipation. The discontinuity between the two was surreal. I watched as she turned her head to talk to Joanne Fielding, head cheerleader, wearing a smile that could have melted a thousand hearts and felt the utter lack of warmth at her core.

Resolutely I tore my gaze from the hypnotic sight of her walking down the hall and resumed shoving my book in my locker. The moment I did _/triumph/satisfaction/anticipation/yess/_ rippled across my awareness. A spark of fear made me turn back around but all I saw was the tail end of her crowd as they scattered after her.

I caught sight of Vee's face and was stuck between laughter and tears. His bottom jaw was hanging open and I swear a drop of drool was collecting at the corner of his mouth. Wryly I said, "Well the janitor's going to busy today cleaning up the puddles." Suddenly around us as if everyone was waking out of a daze sound resumed. Starting I looked around. I hadn't even noticed the lapsing of sound until it was back again.

Only with long familiarity could I make out the faint blush on Vee's face as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Who was that?" he said, looking of the direction the mystery girl disappeared.

Remembering how cold she felt I shivered and said dismissively, "New obviously."

Distractedly he returned, "Yeah." Shaking his head he focused on me. The utter gravity of before was back in his eyes as he opened his mouth again. The bell rang and **_/relief/_** almost crushed me. Metaphysically holding onto the walls I staggered, _What the?_

Quickly Vee grabbed his stuff and jabbered, "Meet you after school in the computer lab. We've gotta do-" Something flashed in his eyes and across his feelings too quick for me to read- "some research on the martial arts thing." Then he was gone.

Shaking my head at his strange behavior I shut our locker. Releasing the tight grip on my empathy as Virg headed in the opposite direction fading a bit from my awareness I shook my head attempting to ride myself of the last little bit of stiffness. Then stuff in arm I made started off in the direction of my class. _Still, it'll be the perfect opportunity to tell him._ I couldn't put it off forever. Leading into my empathy I could start with the dojo hunting I'd done. I was a little worried that whatever effects I might be suffering he might be feeling too. Maybe the machine messed with his powers too just in a less obvious way.

 _God, what if we get into a fight and they go **fizzzz.**_ _The look on everyone's face might be hilarious but the immediate ass kicking to follow won't be._ It might stick in my craw a little but I had to admit that Vee was the powerhouse in our partnership. I had to resort to sneaky. _Which relies a lot on luck,_ I admitted sourly. But seriously. If I was out of commission the city really needed Static Shock to be on duty. Rubberband Man was maybe trying out the hero business but what I'd seen so far didn't instill a lot of confidence in me.

(Virgil's POV)

My pencil rolled back and forth over my desk. The clickety-clack clickety-clack it made as the flat sides were forced to turn wasn't loud enough to annoy anyone but I found it sort of soothing. _Oy, I am so bored._

Glancing around I saw some people still hadn't finished their tests yet. The fact that I don't even have to crack a book to get an A on a test always was a plus. After I put on the- well not tights or cape I'd never admit it to Batman but come on _tights!_ \- mask of vigilante I had even less time than the ordinary teenager. If I'd had to find time to study- My mind stuttered right there with visions of cartoon explosions along with illustrated sound effects.

What it boils down to though is large amounts of time spent with nothing to do because I finish before most people and am confined by schedules like classes, which is just so boring. _There are better things I could be doing. If I didn't have to sit here and pretend to be normal,_

Problem was I had to sit like a lump trying not to lose it and set off the overhead fire extinguishers with a judicious use of power. My fingertips itched for a second and I stilled the pencil firmly telling myself, _No._

Regrettably, I was still a little buzzed from my quick pick me up. It was sort of like being drunk. Most times you don't realize you're about to do something stupid till you've put the lampshade on your head. Not that I have any experience with alcohol. The most I'd ever drunk was a capful of Polish moonshine at a family reunion. At a 150 proof it only made me tipsy. Still it was about as close an analogy as I could figure, and anyway the spacey feel was fading as the energy I'd forced to serve as fuel was burned up.

Letting out my breath in a long stream I resumed rolling, the only thing I could do. _I can't even draw all over my arm like Ricky Henderson because I have no artistic talent_. Smiling a little I mused that slightly pudgy Ricky would probably do it even if she couldn't draw. Wearing glasses and clothes that are more comfortable than stylish, always with her nose in a book she doesn't really fit any mold. She's stubborn and kind of arrogant. Lots of people told her that she shouldn't draw on herself like that cuz it's poisonous. Usually Ricky snorts and shakes her head. Last year I remember she did a dragon whose tail went from the web of her middle finger to the tip of her shoulder. It was real cool with each individual scale flashing as she moved her arm.

Still rolling my pencil I turned to look out the window. There weren't any flames or smoke plumes rising from the skyline for once. It seemed peaceful. _No distraction there._ Letting out a sigh, I turned my attention back to the classroom.

 _Richie._ I closed my eyes. _What the hell am I going to do?_ Fatalistically I admitted for the hundredth time there was really nothing I could do until after I told him. The deadline had been set and though I'd squirmed out of the exact topic Richie and I were going to have a sit down. I'd manage to get around to it eventually. Probably. _Heck, I'm going to blurt it out like a damn fool. I barely managed to control myself this morning. I acted like a real idiot. But hey, girl chasing's been a good distraction before. I thought maybe I could try and counteract my obsession by gaining a new crush._ I rolled my eyes at my stupidity. _My brain must have really been fried then. Come on. I don't know how I'm going to beat this but transferring my fixation isn't going to do anybody any good. She_ _certainly wouldn't stand a chance if I went psycho stalker on her and there is no way in hell a girl like that will give me the time of day. That was about the only reassuring thing about it being Richie._

Suddenly the crackle of the intercom cut through the air. There were a couple thunks as the secretary messed with the microphone. "Ahem. Would Virgil Hawkins report to the office for early dismissal. Thank you."

Straightening up in shock I caught the envious looks of my classmates and the glare Mrs. Beckham was directing my way for disrupting her class. It took a moment to shake off my surprise. Then I began gathering my stuff. Once I had everything I turned to Frieda, "I was supposed to meet Richie in the computer lab. Tell him-" _What? I don't know what this is about but it must be something big if Pop is pulling me out of school._ I felt a flash of fear _. God, someone could be dead._ Quickly I pushed the thought aside. _Whatever it is I can assume there'll be no patrol tonight. Not if I'm going to be doing mandated family stuff._ "Tell him I'll see him tomorrow."Shouldering my backpack I made my way down the aisle and out of class.

 _Guess confessions will have to wait._ Of two minds about that I pushed my worries to the side.

I trudged my way to the office. Remembering when I was a kid in elementary school how I used to pray for an early dismissal. It only happened a couple dozen times in my whole life. But I remember hearing the crackle of the intercom and holding my breath with hope. That dream faded around the time I started middle school. _Growing up sucks._

At the end of my trek I looked through the wood and glass door of the office and saw Sharon standing at the desk. She looked more irritated that upset. Internally a coil of tension relaxed. Though I hadn't wanted to consider it death was one of the few things I could think of as a reason for an early dismissal. With a yank I opened the door.

"You sure took your time, _Bro_ ," Sharon said.

I gave her a smile knowing it would amp up her irritation. Snarking back, "Watched pot. It only took me three minutes to get here, _Sis_."

She frowned and rolled her eyes. "Sometimes you're a real shmuck."

"Only sometimes?" I crooned back falling into our familiar banter.

"Not when I need you to do the heavy lifting." Sharon's smile was just this side of a smirk. The meaning to her words made me groan. One bad thing about having a father who works for what is basically a charity organization is that sometimes donations don't come in the form of nice neat checks. Following Sharon out of the office through the lobby I could see a moving van parked right outside the double doors.

As I climbed in the passenger side I asked, "So we're playing Salvation Army again?" I dumped my backpack between my feet. _Ugh, smells like old cheese in here._

Sharon gave me an annoyed glance as she put the van into gear. "Mrs. Kasitsos generously left us the contents of her house."

Another groan escaped before I could rein myself in. Little old widowed ladies are the worst. They accumulate tons of junk since they don't have anything else to do. "Fine. But what's the hurry?" It wasn't exactly normal to pull me out of school for this sort of work.

Not taking her eyes off the road she said sourly, "She left the house to her son and he's got an auction set up for tomorrow."

My eyes bugged out a little. "Wow. Short mourning period."

Her snort reverberated through the cab.

(Richie's POV)

Irritated, I tugged at the straps of my backpack as I stamped out of the school building. _Oh, so nice of Frieda to tell me Vee isn't coming after waiting a whole friggin' twenty minutes._

Sighing, I admitted that most of my anger came from getting dumped. With a hint of chagrin I figured, _This must be how Frieda and Daisy feel._

Out in the parking lot I was stopped by a rich tenor voice calling out, "Hey, Richie."

Scanning the mostly empty asphalt I stopped in surprise. My eyes widened at the sight of the New Girl leaning against a cherry red '95 convertible mustang, white top down. She was posed like a model long legs crossed to and arms akimbo supporting her weight against the rear fender. Her hair ruffled in the slight breeze completing the scene.

Maybe I was becoming paranoid but something about it seemed so- fake. As if she'd practiced how to seem most appealing. I shook off my unease. _Duh, of course she has. Rich little princess she probably figured out how to twist men in knots when she was five. Besides you know what she wants. Somebody told her you had a brain rattling around in your skull and now she wants to keep you drooling along after her doing all her homework._

Internally I sighed. When my grades started improving I'd faced this tactic. It was slightly less inconvenient then the jocks trying to beat their grades out of me. Since I really had no interest in girls saying no wasn't the problem. Saying no in a way that would get everyone labeling me a **_fag_**. That was the problem. The jocks I had to approach from a whole 'nother angle. They sure as heck didn't scare me but I couldn't let **them** know that. Keeping all the twists of my life and all the things I had to do straight took a high percentage of my mental abilities; it made me wonder sometimes how Vee did it.

Squinting my eyes at the twilight glare as well as the hint of tension I felt between my temples at the prospect of playing more of "This is Your Life" I waited for her to get it over with. Not to disappoint she pushed off her car with a sensual grace and walked the twenty-five feet across the parking lot to me with a sexy sway that didn't move me in the least except to laughter. _Wow, she's really pulling out all the stops._

When she struck another pose in front of me, just as full of latent potency as the last. I almost lost it, only the fact that she wouldn't think it was so funny kept me from rolling around on the ground, saving me from having her pointy toes probably aiming for sensitive bits made vulnerable in such a position.

Her hand came up and trailed down my face.

Suddenly nothing was funny anymore. _/heat/lust/hate/_

The next thing I was aware of was the sound of harsh pants. It took several seconds for me to realize through the red haze in my mind that **I** was the one panting. Struggling to think through the stifling sensations flooding my mind I sluggishly took body was vibrating, every nerve singing with anticipation and, guiltily enough I recognized with lust. The throbbing in my groin was painful and immediate in my mind. I felt wild and uncontrolled, like at any moment I was going to collapse into a puddle on the black top. It was so powerful I was locked into place. It was as if my body was walled off from my mind. I could still feel it but I couldn't touch it or make it do anything. It was reacting without my input anymore like a separate entity. _It's **her**. She's doing this._

Turning scared eyes on the girl that had done this to me I saw no longer the seductive temptress. Her stance was smugly confident and her smirk had panic gibbering in my mind. She was getting real pleasure out of my fear. I could- _oh, help me god_ \- I could **feel** it. I thought I felt repulsed before but the dark lust I felt swirling around her reaching out to cackle at my helplessness, caressing me, pervading my pores made me want to hurl. But the bile wouldn't rise.

She stroked my arm like a lover; as her hand trailed down my skin pleasure sparked inside me. I shut my eyes, unfortunately the only thing I could do as my own body betrayed me. _Stop. Oh, please stop._ I wanted to shrink away from her. I wanted to run as far and as fast as I could. I'd never felt such intense arousal in my life and all I wanted was for it to go away. Suddenly I had a dreadful suspicion where this was going.

"A virgin huh?" She sounded a shade disappointed. "You must be. Otherwise you'd be all over me." She leaned up against my chest. I whimpered and shook. I wanted so badly to gag as she breathed seductively into my ear, "Doesn't matter I'll teach you some **fun** maneuvers. There's something to be said about not having to unlearn bad habits." She pulled back and her smile was so self-satisfied I wondered whether or not I was going to survive this and if I wanted to or not.

"Nice trick isn't it?" She trailed a finger down my chest leaving a trail of shivers. "My power leaves you totally under my control. It's my pheromones you see. They're special some how. They make me iristable. Now you're my plaything. Until I'm bored with you." A tiny frown marred her face. "Or you kill yourself." She shrugged. "You look like the kind that might self destruct. Some do when they break."

Taking a hold of my wrist she pulled me over to her car. She maneuvered me like a big Ken doll fitting me into the leather seats. As she strolled over to the driver's side I ordered my body to move. I fought to reach my body through the thick red fog. Soon I was sweating but it was no use.

As she settled in and started the car she flashed me another nasty grin. "Oh, we're going to have so much fun." Pulling out of the school lot I **knew** that there was going to be no last minute rescue for me. Whatever was going to happen there was no one to stop it. I didn't know what she was doing or why. She decided to fill me in. She was a talker; I'd find out.

"I've done it plenty of times. You'll do anything for me." She gazed up at me through her eyelashes and I knew with a dead weight on my heart that she was right. I couldn't control myself. "One boy killed his entire family for me. To prove he loved me. Soon you'll love me." Panic made me scramble in my mind. _NO!_

She took a left on Monroe. "You don't right now. That's why I picked you. You, you're in love. You looked away. This morning. That was my little test. I let loose a tiny bit of pheromones; it really doesn't take much. You saw the result. And you looked away. You could resist because you're in love." My heart beat franticly in my chest as she twisted my love into a thing to hate.

"Oh, it's easy to get ordinary boys to fall for me, they **want** to. The fools half the time didn't even notice that they were heading for the cliff. It's no fun. Where's the challenge? But the ones who are in love... They fight it. They hate it. Breaking them is so much sweeter." She sounded so cheerful like manipulating people was the best game ever.

The car stopped in front of what I could only assume was her house. It looked like an ordinary two-story. _It should have a welcome mat declaring 'Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Here'._ She hopped out of the car and came over to my side. With a few well-polished moves she had me out and going towards her front door. There she started digging through her purse. With a sigh she said, "Another new house. This is like the fourth time we've moved this year. The only downside to my games. People don't know what I've done but I'm usually in the middle of it so they assume it's my fault, which it is but still is that any reason to expel me? At the last school Bobby Sigel cut out his eyes at the school dance in the boys bathroom after I told him I didn't like him staring at me while we danced. It's not like I held the blade for Christ's sake." She sounded so condescending. I felt sick to my stomach.

Dragging me into the house I caught a glimpse of a haggard looking mousy middle-aged woman through a doorway. _Help me._ I begged silently. _/guilt/shame/terror/_

I felt each emotion like hammer blows. Knocking away at what little hope I had left. She looked away from me as I was pulled up threadbare steps. Blithely my capturer commented, "That's my mom. It's too bad I don't like girls. My powers work just as well on them."

At the top of the stairs was a long hallway with rooms branching off. The similarity to my own home sent a wave of unreality crashing through my mind. All I could hear was my harsh breathing for a moment blocking out whatever she was saying.

"… fitting. After all the first time I did this was with my father. I was twelve. After he'd finished having sex with me he went into the den and shot his brains out with the Remington Shotgun." She was pushing me onto her bed tugging off my shirt and glasses. She let out a sigh, "I guess there's no use in foreplay. Not until I teach you how." Her smile was wicked. "That's okay. I like down and dirty sometimes. Next time we'll do the whole dog and pony show." Suddenly I wished I hadn't fixed my eyes as I could see the avarice in her eyes clear as day.

With a shove she pushed me down flat. I lay there as she stripped off the rest of my clothes and I wanted to die. My fevered skin prickled as it was revealed to the cool air as she removed my pants, costume, and underwear with one swift jerk throwing them away. I closed my eyes unwilling to look. If I didn't see it then it wasn't really happening. "You're not bad to look at once you've got your clothes off. And oooh, you're certainly not disappointing in the important area." She cupped my aching erection. I almost came right there it was so intense. My body strained for release even as my mind was screaming. I heard some rustling then a drawer slam. Next I felt something cool smooth over me trapping in the heat pouring off my cock. A shiver wound through me involuntarily. _No. Please. Don't do this to me._ I begged even though I couldn't speak the words. I knew what was coming. God, I wish I hadn't.

Her voice was almost apologetic, "I know you haven't been anywhere but who knows you might be a druggie. And for God's sake I don't want some mewing brat so you're going to be wearing this little rain coat." The bed sunk then the tightest heat wrapped around me. Fireworks went off behind my eyelids. Groaning my body thrust up before I realized what was happening. "So little virgin. Now you lose, ah, your cherry." Her voice was breathy and cruelly mocking. _NO! Stop. Get off._ I wanted to grab her and toss her off. But I couldn't get my hands to move from where they were clenched to the sheets.

As she began rocking on top of me I knew she was taking from me something that I could never get back. Every experience after this would be tainted with her and this. _no._ Tears started trickling down into my ears. Sobbing and panting my body thrust up over and over moving with a rhythm that was primal as pleasure built up in my spine. I wanted to stop so badly but I couldn't. I kept driving forward into her heat as she cried out in ecstasy that was partly physical and partly delight in my humiliation. I could feel it sink into me making itself part of me. Her pleasure mixed with mine twining higher driving into my brain showing me how helpless I was and mocking me with the good feelings forced upon me.

"I love tears on a man." She gasped breathlessly. "You look particularly good in them." Then she scraped her nails along my abdomen; I almost bucked us off the bed. When I came down, "Mmhmm, like that did you?" She laughed uproariously and did it again. Her touch was like fire making my body twist and shake. "Good boy, give it to me." She road each buck with a cry and another harsh crow-like laugh.

Soon her climax had her spasming on top of me dragging me along after her into orgasm. _No. No. Nononononoononono,_ I cried out even as the aftershocks shook me. Endorphins tried to convince me that I'd enjoyed this, making my soul cry out in betrayal.

Lying there wrung out and sweaty in the aftermath I wanted to roll over and curl up into a fetal ball. Something in me died and I wished that the rest could follow.

She eased off me keeping a grip on my cock. Once she was off she tugged off the condom she'd sheathed on me. She chuckled nastily, "Don't worry little virgin soon you won't remember that you didn't want to. In fact you'll beg for it." She tapped me on the arm. "Ah, ah. I let you get away with that before. Open your eyes. Look at me." Unwillingly I unclenched my eyes and turned to look at her. She frowned. "Get your stuff and get out. I'm through with you for today."

Mechanically I got out of her bed and got dressed. I started walking. Down the stairs. Out the door. Past the car. Down the road. Things passed in a blur. I didn't pay attention. My mind was turned off. For the first time in a long time not a single thought formed in my head. Comforting blankness accompanied me as I entered the gas station. I started stripping off my clothes as soon as I entered the door. Stepping into the shower I turned the knobs randomly and stood under the spray. Barely registering that it was hotter than I could usually stand I stared at the gray front of my steel box. And the tears that streamed down my face were undistinguishable from the water.

1\. _Runaway Train_ \- Soul Asylum


	9. Remember the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I actually had intended to have this to you my intrepid fans weeks ago but several events conspired against you, including a pan full of boiling hot chocolate and a stomach flu. I'm sure that doesn't make much sense but I think we need to keep a little mystery in our lives don't you agree?

A/N: I actually had intended to have this to you my intrepid fans weeks ago but several events conspired against you, including a pan full of boiling hot chocolate and a stomach flu. I'm sure that doesn't make much sense but I think we need to keep a little mystery in our lives don't you agree?

And now on with the … story.

Remember the Night

(Virgil's POV)

 _I feel like crap._ Hauling the latest dining room chair of the deceased Mrs. Kasitsos towards my U-haul I had to admit it wasn't really the work. Sure it was tiring and mind-numbing but I'd done more strenuous things in gym class. _Lucky I didn't pull library duty there._ glanced at Ted over on my left. He hefted one of the huge boxes from his pile, staggering a little, then steadily making his way to his truck. _Poor sucker._

I'd done this often enough by now to know how it generally broke down. The girls do the sorting in the house; dividing up the objects according to function and broker. Then one group of guys lugs the stuff they've boxed out to the designated truck. Then the next group of guys takes the stuff and loads it. It's sort of like a relay race. I teased Sharon once that it was a sexist system; the boys do all the heavy lifting. Oy, did she sputter and yell at that. Gave me a warm feeling in the cockles of my heart.

I don't know if Sharon was feeling particularly kind or was having a weak moment because I got assigned furniture that time around. Didn't even need someone to help lift things into the truck except for with the odd sofa or two. In one way it was rather nice because I sure didn't feel like talking. On the other hand it left me to stew.

The same sense of shame that had pervaded my night dragged me down as I worked. My mind wasn't able to churn out any more bad news mercifully enough but that didn't mean what had already frothed to the surface didn't sting with every move I made. I felt stupid and sick and amongst it all was a strumming through my bones. A feeling, that right in the middle of class but the clock's broke so you don't know when it's going to end and the teacher is droning on about something you could care less about, feeling. Itchy - _got get out of here gotta get out of here **got**_ - _to get_ **_out_** \- want to jump up and bolt out of the room feeling and only the threat of punishment keeps you in that plastic torture device cunningly disguised as a seat vibrating your leg in a desperate attempt to keep busy.

I tried to push it all away. But when it's down to brass tacks it's hard to distract yourself loading furniture.

Loathe as I was to admit it there was another feeling under all that. One that told me there was something wrong with Richie. It was deep in my gut and no matter how irrational it was it wouldn't go away. And it had to be irrational because I hadn't heard a peep out of the Shock Vox. I even checked the batteries to make sure it was working just in case. _I've got it bad._

The sky had barely begun to gray with the beginning of twilight but I was mentally exhausted and feeling morally bankrupt.

Lifting a post modern Victorian chair or some such fancy make above my head to get it on the bed of the truck I felt the scratchy pull of my sweat-soaked shirt abrading my skin. After sliding the thing into place I tugged the fabric away from my body uselessly. It wasn't really that hot but the combo of hours under the sun and physical labor led to more than a little perspiration. Frankly, the shirt I was wearing was kind of old and snug and the material wasn't really suited for this type of work. Not for the first time I wished I could just take it off. Plenty of the other boys had, but I couldn't. I couldn't risk someone noticing the second shirt and start asking questions. True, it was a little paranoid. One reason we hid our costumes this way was they were less conspicuous but there was no point putting questions in someone's mind. _At least I got to take off the top shirt._ I glanced over at the red silk peeking out from under my backpack.

Turning back to my ever-growing stack I was surprised to see my boxes had company. Blinking, I took in the cut-off-wearing, mid-riff showing clothing of the girl standing before me and had to swallow my groan of envy. _Girls get away with murder,_ I thought bitterly. Her silver belly ring winked at me in the fading sunlight. I barely restrained my shudder of disgust. At least Richie had his earring in the proper place, his ear, and he was right when he said it made him look less like a geek and more like a pirate. The idea of holes in other places really creeps me out.

Of course I never thought Vicky Hart ever had a lot of fashion sense. She'd been working for my father for years and the only thing I ever noticed her being discriminate about was food. However the tall glass of water she had in her hands made me willing to overlook any of her flaws.

"Hi there. I thought you were looking thirsty hauling all this heavy stuff around." She gave me a coy smile and held the glass out to me.

Taking it from her with a smile I briefly considered dumping it over my head but just as quickly dismissed it. I knew that it'd be a relief at first but then it would warm to body temp and just be another irritant. Instead I began gulping it down. The rattle of ice cubes as I tipped the glass back was reassuring though it made me wonder when the fridge was going to be added to my pile and whom I was going to have to recruit to help me with it.

With big eyes Vicky drawled, "Sooo, Virgil, got any plans for later tonight?" She put her hand on my arm in a commiserating manner.

Knowing she was just being polite and wondering if Sharon had prodded her into water-girl duty I shook my head. "Nothing other than collapsing." I handed her back the glass with its rapidly melting ice cubes clinking together. "Thanks for the water." She hovered awkwardly for a moment then flounced off with a backward glance in my direction.

Dismissing her now that she was gone I rubbed my hands together as I considered the sprawling mess before me. It wasn't any smaller. Feeling the tug of longing, I looked back at the city, which was more than ten miles away. _I wanna go home._

(Sharon's POV)

"God, he's got a great ass."

A cascade of giggles resulted from that lustful moan. I glanced around the kitchen doorway at the flock of girls pretending to work but actually ogling the loading crew. As supervisor I had an obligation to go in and break it up but I was sort of curious. There were around five of them and they obviously had one separated from the herd and were preparing to saddle. Of course I'd seen the attempt and it looked more like she'd landed on her ass.

"Isn't he a little too much of a jailbait for you, Vicky?" another voice pointed out.

Smiling wryly, I shook my head. I knew Vicky pretty well, she had a new boyfriend every other day and was totally uncompromising about it, not really a slut more of a man-eater, not that they usually complained. She'd been working for my Dad for about five and a half years paying her college tuition. _As if that doesn't tell you something._

"Come on, for that body I'd risk jail. His jeans are a little snug in the right places if you didn't notice." There was the sound of shoving and more giggles, along with a couple "know what you means". Quickly I drew up a mental list of names of everyone in the room. I had no objections to looking. As long as it remained just looking. They didn't really sound like they were going to, though.

"So are you going out tonight?" another one chimed in although it was less of a question than an affirmation. Smiling, I listened a little harder. **I** was pretty confident that I'd read the body language right but I wanted confirmation.

Vicky, sounding frustrated, "No."

My smile grew wider. _Go Bro._ Him falling into bed with Vicky wasn't my idea of a good choice under most circumstances but these days I was rooting for a happily ever after with Richie so I really didn't wish her well.

There was a moment of dead silence. "What?" asked another member of the posse, Sammy I think, voicing the surprise they obviously all felt. There weren't too many guys out there willing to turn down a girl like Vicky. Whose chest rivaled that of a Playboy bunny, and had legs like Daisy Duke.

There was the fleshy thud of a fist hitting something. "He's built like a brick and I think that's what's between his ears." Now she sounded pissed. I nodded silently in agreement with that, almost driven to sympathy.

Commiserating, one of her flock cooed, "Ohhh, didn't even notice?"

"No. It figures. Looks and brains in the male species seem mutually exclusive."

"Wow. Look at him flex." There was a chorus of admiring noises.

I shifted uncomfortably. It was kind of disturbing hearing them eyeball my little brother.

"Do you think you'd get in trouble laying Hawkins's kid?"

"Ha. At this rate no," Vicky replied ruefully.

Figuring I'd heard enough I counted silently to sixty as they continued their peep show then swept in. "So how are things in here?" I asked scanning the piddly amount they'd crated up. Panic and embarrassment ensued. _It's a good day._

(Robert's POV)

Most of my attention was focused on keeping a careful eye out for the right turn-off sign. My directions weren't completely trustworthy and I'd never been this way before. However the rest of it was on the back seat. Virgil was wedged up against the car door fast asleep. Even asleep, my son's face was tense.

After I'd finished with the different estate sellers I arrived in time to aid with the clean up at the Kasitsos house. Shaking my head I couldn't help spending a minute in pitying remembrance. _Poor Betty. That son of hers is as grasping as any lawyer I ever met and just as capable of shedding crocodile tears._ To tell the truth I imagine the only reason he didn't contest the will was because it would cost _him_ money.

Everyone was pretty tired after clearing out Betty's four story Victorian style mansion or, in my case wrestling with greedy sales persons, and a large part of me was relieved to just round up my son and daughter and head home. But another part niggled at the growing concern that had been plaguing me for a while.

Things had been getting not _worse_ at home but whatever was causing this drift between Virgil and his family seemed to be wining. It hurt that the closeness we'd enjoyed in the past was now filled with so much distance.

At first I just thought it was the cliché of teenage rebellion. I'd seen it dozens of times in my work and counseled just as many families through it. But while some of the symptoms were the same the anger and defensiveness just weren't there with Virgil. In fact to my chagrin I was the one who had lashed out with anger at first trying to pull him back in. I know I really hurt him with that "irresponsible" speech. But as they say the most damning accusations have the truth involved and I knew he had been skipping out on things. I was just confused to see this person I thought I knew not acting like the boy I'd raised.

After that incident I tried looking at it from another angle and I realized that it wasn't willfulness Virgil was displaying but self-reliance. He was doing things on his own with or without my support. It was scary contemplating all the scenarios that spawned from that. Because it meant whatever he was doing my son might feel that maybe he couldn't rely on his family anymore.

I'm not ashamed to say I panicked a little at the idea. I'd calmed only when I reassured myself that no matter what I'd raised him well enough not to get involved in anything dangerous. That it was probably some internal struggle he was dealing with.

And after my disastrous first reaction I didn't want to risk making it worse by demanding to be let back in. It took a while to accept the distance, to realize that whatever was going on I had to wait til he felt comfortable coming to me. Part of me wanted to grab him and shake him til he told me what was going on.

Glancing over at my daughter, who was wearily riding shotgun, I wondered if she felt as cut off from her brother as I did.

Turning my eyes back to the dark night lit only by headlights and city lights I spotted our exit. Guiding the car right I glanced back at the tense face of my son and wished this parenting gig was easier.

(Richie's POV)

The first keys of a piano train woke me. I blinked gummy eyes at the ceiling as the song played on.

 _I will not make the same mistakes that you did._

 _na naha._

 _I will not let myself cause my heart so much misery,_

 _I will not break the way you did,_

 _you fell so hard,_

 _I've learned the hard way to never let it get that far._

An uneasy feeling set up residence in my stomach. My first instinctive reaction was to turn it off. To get it away. I was held back by something I couldn't name. A captive as the music stirred at something shadowy and indistinct in my memory. Whatever it was it reminded me of the feeling that makes the hair stand up on your arms before lightning strikes, that heart-pounding anticipation as you wait for something to happen. As the stanzas rolled on the strain grew as something in me pushed to bring up whatever was lurking at the corners.

 _because of you I never stray to far from the sidewalk,_

 _because of you I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt_

 _because of you I find it hard to trust not only me but everyone around me,_

 _because of you I am afraid._

With a shiver I pushed away the unnerving feelings bubbling in my brain. I didn't really want to remember something hooked to a song with those lyrics. I ordered Backpack to shut off the music. Immediately the pressure was gone. Still slightly disturbed I thought, _Maybe I should start having Backpack play an alarm instead of radio._ I wasn't quite sure what nerve that particular song had touched but I was well aware that my past was twisty. No need to call attention to the darker parts of it.

With a sight, I sat up and tossed off my blanket. As I stood I cataloged all the aches of my body as I'd become accustomed to. It felt like I'd pulled a maneuver mid-air that hadn't worked and resulted in me crashing into the wall. My abdomen felt tender and itchy. Looking down I saw what looked sort of like a rash. _What the hell?_

After a moment I shrugged it off. I couldn't recall anything that would have caused it. _I probably was allergic to something in the Alva cocktail. Hope it doesn't spread._

Resisting the urge to scratch it, I headed for the laundry room. About halfway into the room my foot snagged something. Curious, I bent over and picked up a pair of khakis. My kakis. Holding them in my hand I frowned. My mind scrambled trying to figure out why I'd left them in the middle of the floor.

They didn't have any holes nor were they covered in any of the various substances we'd discovered rendered clothes unsalvageable. I brought them a little closer and took a sniff. They did smell pretty rank sort of musky and sweaty, nothing that would normally have me discard a perfectly good pair of pants. There was something though. Something distasteful about them. With a shrug I threw them towards the corner of the room and forgot about them.

(Thomas Markham, English Teacher, POV)

When I was a kid there was a boy who lived down the road who liked to cut the legs off frogs with his Swiss Army knife and watch them flop around afterwards. In all my years on this Earth I'd never met another person with that look of death in their eyes. Until the sun rotated around to the day **_she_** walked into my classroom.

I was out most of the week at a workshop for the "No Child Left Behind" nonsense. _Damn Bush and his bureaucratic idiocy._ So I missed her first grand entrance.

She didn't tone it down much on her second day. She couldn't have when she walked into my class looking like a magazine cover. After I'd finished pulling my tongue back in- seriously I'm old not _dead_ \- I gave a mental groan. All the eyes in the class followed her. girls, well the popular ones tried to catch her notice the unpopular ones just tried to look small. The boys started shoving each other in the traditional caveman-like display of vying for fresh meat. All the while she preened under the attention. This one was beautiful and knew it.

Still, I didn't know how deep the shit was until I called roll. When I got to her name and called, "Makil, Blaise," she turned to the front and looked at me with her dead eyes and I remembered Johnny Tisk. I was so flustered I assigned everyone bookwork so I didn't have to deal with them.

As I sat at my desk and tried to look at anything else but my students I couldn't help thinking, _What does she cut the legs off of?_

(Richie's POV)

Somehow I'd gone three whole periods without running into Vee. Yeah, we didn't have the same classes but usually between them we hook up. He was here. I could feel him, which was starting to almost feel natural creepily enough. Yet at the same time not. Inside, deep inside, I was still freaking but it was a dull and kinda far away feeling. Like a last futile gesture.

I'd fiddled with the theory before that the Gas had certain effects on the mental processes. Most Bang Babies don't want to be normal again, even when their transformation is physically disfiguring. And how could that be possible in a society that fears the abnormal unless some sort of outside influence was making them protect their own abnormality? Sure there was the power trip of being special but all their culturally ingrained reactions should have all the effected searching for a cure, a way to get it out. Seriously, my new ability freaked me out at first, and certain aspects of the morality still does, but it was rapidly beginning to feel like another part of me. Losing it would be like losing a limb.

All in all I didn't want to go back to who I was before the Gas. I was me. Freaky powers included. Even now that there was a new dimension added by Alva's decision to sacrifice me to the proverbial gods. Which strongly argued for my theory. Very fascinating. Another thing to add to my observations about the Gas.

But I was more concerned with not having seen Virgil all day. I missed his warm presence.

Heading to my locker on our final break I was sure that for some reason he'd be there this time. When I rounded the corner and he wasn't, the letdown was a physical ache. _Don't be a baby, Richie. So he's busy. Get over it._

Continuing on to my locker I couldn't help the slight drag in my step, though I felt like an idiot because of it. There'd been an ominous feeling hanging over my head all day, I put it down to waking up on the wrong side of the radio, but I'd really been looking forward to seeing Vee.

Popping open the lock and door I dumped the stuff from my last class in. I started reaching for the stuff I'd need for the next when I heard, "Hey there, Lover," and nightmare images crashed down around me.

Zombie-like, I turned and saw **Her**. I backed up into the lockers, desperate to get away. She smiled that nasty smile. The one I suddenly remembered from yesterday. _Somebody help me,_ I pleaded desperately as I saw her hand approaching my face. I knew I'd die if she did it to me again. There wouldn't be anything left inside of me. I wanted to close my eyes. I wanted to run. I couldn't get my body to cooperate. It was too much like before. My mind was reduced to screaming gibberish. _NononoDon'ttouhmedon'ttouchmedon'ttouchmedon'ttouchmedon'ttouchmenono!_

(Virgil's POV)

This morning was disturbing. I woke up tucked into bed and I knew Pops had done it. It felt damn weird that he'd been able to do that. I'm a lot lighter sleeper these days. Just the car stopping should have done it, long before he could haul my carcass upstairs. Rationally, I knew it was just the aftereffects of my recharge. _Which was oh, so bright. There is a reason I don't do it often after all._

I guess it was the depth of my helplessness during those hours that made me feel so- twitchy. _I've been in the business too long, that's all._ I told myself. Letting my guard down is as hard as it used to be to wake me up.

Hours later and I still felt twitchy and uneasy in my own skin. I was glad when I hadn't run into Richie for the first few classes. I wasn't avoiding him but I wasn't looking forward to resetting our date for my confession. Telling him that I've been a creep and have fixated on him was not the kind of news one can't wait to share.

My luck ran out eventually. I knew it would. Rounding the corner after third period I saw Richie at our locker. Halfway down the hallway I was still rehearsing what I was going to say. It was a lot harder to commit now that I was basically "sober". Then I saw Blaise, the new girl, approach Richie.

Odd much? I'll freely admit that Richie and I are not at the top of the Dakota Union High social scale yet the most beautiful girl was coming up to a lower ranker? During the middle of the day? In a crowded hallway? _Does not compute._

I was a lot closer when she said something that made him turn around but not close enough to hear it. I couldn't see his face either but I could tell- He was terrified. Not in that _"oh God I'm going to embarrass myself into the 9th dimension Pretty Grrl"_ kind of way but " _screaming for your life"_ terrified.

Picking up my step I saw her reaching for Richie's face and I knew whatever was going on I had to stop her. Richie's entire body language was screaming, **_/don't touch me_ /** so loud I could practically hear it in my head.

Gathering a bit of static in my hand I reached out and grabbed her arm before it could reach Richie's face. The tiny zap that passed between us made her start. When she turned to look at me I pasted on my most charming smile, and always hoped it wasn't as goof as I thought, and said in my most lecherous tone, "Wow, we've got sparks already." From there I blathered on at high speed with some of the worst pick up lines I could think of, having already used my worst. Desperately trying to distract her as I noticed Richie beating feet out of the corner of my eye. "You know I could show you around. I've lived in Dakota all my life. It's a small town, won't take too long then we can- do other things." I added a suggestive leer to my words, trying to remember how F-Stop used to talk to the girls, going for absolute cretin.

Being close to her had seemed so appealing the day before. In fact I'd have done anything to get her to pay me an iota of attention. Now as I stood next to her, breathing the same air, and feeling her touch all I wanted to do was drop her arm and back away slowly without turning my back on her. Her eyes were so damn **cold**. She looked right through me like she was judging me even as I kept on spouting meaningless passes. Neither of us was listening to what I was saying, somehow I could tell and some primitive part of my brain was yelling 'bad!bad!' at the top of its tiny lungs.

Finally she raised a cool eyebrow at me then looked at the empty space where Richie had been. With her attention off me I felt like I could breathe again. I dropped her arm and pulled back a little out of her personal space. The next minute she turned her gaze back on me with an amused pout on her lips. I blinked at the change. The ice woman was gone replaced by a soft wet girl with dewy eyes who looked like sex on a stick. I swallowed heavily out of fear and the satisfaction I could read in her face made me astonishingly glad she'd misinterpreted. I didn't know what was going on but I was just starting to realize that I was alone with a shark that would happily eat me alive. _Help me._

Trailing her hand up my arm she kept her shiny eyes on my face, "You're kind of cute. Not really my type. But. Maybe I'll see you. Later." A shiver spread through my body at the ominous feel to that 'Later'. One final smile and she was gone.

Leaving me with a creepy crawly feeling alone in the semi deserted hallway. The bell was going to ring in seconds and my class was on the other end of the school.

The open door of our locker swung next to my face and I stared off in the direction Richie had tailed it in. Slowly, deliberately, I reached up and shut it.

(Richie's POV)

I threw myself through the gas station door with big heaving gasps. Stumbling toward the shower stalls I ripped off my clothes. With a quick mental scream I sent Backpack scrambling off my back. I couldn't see. All I could feel were her hands on me, her emotions smothering me. Beyond desperate I scrambled into my shower and twisted on the knobs uncaring once more of the temperature. Standing under the stinging needles of hot water, I fell apart as memories assaulted me. Tears streamed down my face as I stared blankly at the wall. _I didn't remember. I don't want to remember._ Recalling those blissful hours when it had all been repressed, I wished desperately for my ignorance back.

Sobs broke from my chest, making me quake as my self-control corroded. I dropped to the rough cement floor. My fists beat on the wet rock, raging against her, against it all. Powerless in the face of reality, I was so afraid. I couldn't fight her. She took away everything with one touch. _Her touch._ Gagging and heaving, my insides spilled out. Acid burned my mouth and dribbled down my chin as lunch quickly swirled down the drain but I kept heaving. Nothing was coming up but I kept trying hoping to dislodge the sickness inside.

Choking, and unable to breathe, my tired muscles gave up fighting the unmovable. It was never going to come out. It was just going to sit there in my middle forever, tainting me.

My eyes felt like they were going to fall out of my skull and my throat burned from bile. I hurt all over. I just wanted it to end. To all go away. Blankly cradling my bruised fists to my chest I pressed my forehead to the floor, willing reality away.

Who knows how long I knelt there as I keened my heartache. The next thing I knew clothed arms surrounded me and I heard Vee's voice calling out to me though I couldn't understand the words. Unable to summon the strength to talk I turned in his arms pulling him in with me and clinging to his chest. _Don't leave me._ I pleaded wordlessly with a stopped trying to move me and let me weep into his quickly soaking shirt. Somehow that bit of kindness burst the last barrier I had in me and I howled, pressing my face into his collarbone.

(Virgil's POV)

True fear only hit me when I got to our headquarters and found the door swinging half off its hinges. I'd kept a tight rein on my suspicions up til then, making myself remain calm. But when I saw the wreckage of the door and the clothing littering the interior of Richie's most proud accomplishment I knew that what was wrong was badder than F-Stop, Ebon, and Alva teamed up to form the newest boy band.

Heedlessly, I rushed into the station, frantic to find my friend. Find him I did. Curled up and desolate, he was trying to merge with the shower floor as water poured around him. Worst of all I could hear a low-pitched whine of utter misery over it all. It sounded like a wounded animal waiting to die.

Panic gripped me. I frantically pushed my powers away from my skin into my core where my body provided insulation and jumped into the shower to get at my friend. First I tried to get him out. The water was getting chilly, a scary concept because I knew how much hot water there was usually, and I could feel the shivers wracking his body.

He looked so pale and vulnerable. But he resisted, whimpering in distress, and I just couldn't force him. Wrapping my arms around him as he tried to crawl impossibly closer, I felt tears of my own slipping down my face. _What happened?_ The howls he let loose into my chest hurt my heart. _What happened to you?_ Squeezing him tighter to me, I ignored the discomfort in my legs cramped up on the floor beneath me, and the way the cold water wet my clothes to me. It wasn't important compared to the pain radiating off my friend. I felt it battering at me, making me want to howl along with him. More of my tears slipped down to drop on Richie's head as I rocked him slowly. "Shh. Shh. It'll be alright," I repeated over and over, trying to believe it.

The terrible howling finally tapered off into harsh moans that got quieter and quieter. Soon he was limp against me, unconscious with his grief.

I sat there just holding him for several moments, unable to process what had happened. It all seemed so impossible. _What is going on?_ I pleaded silently. But Richie's unconscious shivers reminded me that we should get out of the rapidly cooling water.

The knobs mocked me. There was no way to use my powers to shut off the shower. _Electricity and water don't mix,_ I thought hysterically, and a laugh that was more sob than laugh tore through me, wringing out more tears with it. Pulling myself together, I awkwardly climbed to my feet, not once letting go of my friend. With shaky fingers, I turned off the shower spray, holding Richie's limp body to me with one arm. Never before was I so glad for his smaller stature.

Wrapping my other arm back around his slippery body, I hefted him up so his feet were no longer touching the ground, turned, and made my way, staggering under the weight to the rec room. Inside, I noticed the couch had been slept on. Incapable at that point of thinking about why the chicken crossed the road let alone the implications of that, I pushed them aside and tried to gently lower Richie down on the nearest end. But despite being smaller he wasn't _that_ much smaller. I winced. It was more of a drop than I would have liked.

His scarily pale skin stood out against the darker cloth of the couch, calling attention to his nakedness, which was only covered with a beading of water. I didn't want to leave him alone. Something horrible was going on and I didn't want to leave him alone and vulnerable. But it had to be done. We were both going to develop pneumonia if we didn't get warm. Grabbing, a crumpled cover from the floor I tossed it over Richie. With one last glance at his lax face, I headed for the laundry room in search of towels and dry clothes.

My shoes squished with the travel, full of water from their impromptu wash, when a distinctly different sound broke the rhythm. Something was crunched under my right shoe. Stepping back, I bent over to find Richie's glasses shattered and twisted. I closed my eyes. _Bad. Bad. Oh, this is bad._ As I straightened back up, I opened my eyes again. Suddenly full of anger, I kicked the mangled black wires and shards away. As soon as I'd done it the anger dissipated like the poor cover for my fear it had been. My shoulders shook as I swallowed the sobs that wanted to erupt.

When I regained my composure, I continued on. I went over to our dryer. Luckily we'd done laundry recently so there were clothes in the basket. Ignoring the heavy feel from the steam that had filled the room, I grabbed the first articles of my civilian garb I found. Digging deeper to get the necessary towels it occurred to me, _What if he wakes up alone? What will he do?_ Remembering the desolation in his crouched form, I shook again with suppressed fear. Part of me wanted to rush back and check on him. _Be smart. Finish what you're doing. You're being ridiculous,_ I berated myself, but it didn't keep me from hurrying or keeping an ear on the other room.

Finishing quickly, I was relieved to find Richie was still out when I got back. But the frown and restlessness under his cover did much to kill that relief.

Dumping the dry bundle of clothing at the far end of the couch, I tried to figure the best way to get us both dry. With a sigh, I conceded, _I probably made this harder by not thinking ahead._ As far as I could see, the only way to get the towels around Richie would be to lay them out then lift him into them. Not the easiest operation.

I pulled out the large beach towels I'd picked. Right now Richie was so vulnerable, I figured the more cover the better. When I- Well, I always feel better when I can hide a little. Laying the red one on the bottom cushion of the couch between my pile and Richie, and arranging the other- pure white- on the back, I again turned to Richie's inert form. With a tug, I pulled off the now damp cover and tossed it aside. I thought about trying to lift him the same way I'd carried him before, but the position was all wrong for it. Feeling awkward, I bent down practically kneeling, and reached under his legs and behind his head. Straightening, I was struck by the miscellaneous thought that it was like carrying a bride over a threshold. Blushing, not quite knowing why, I moved him over into the towels. He twitched a little in my arms, but not much. It worried me, his unresponsiveness. Unlike me, he'd never been a deep sleeper.

I was about to wrap him up when I realized that it wouldn't quite do it. He'd been in that cold water a long time. Although I admit he had to have broken the sound barrier to have done it since it hadn't taken me that long to arrive. I wanted him to be completely dry. Thankfully, I'd brought a couple towels to wipe myself off. Snagging, one I quickly began rubbing him down.

Although I was trying to be gentle, I grew more apprehensive when he once again lay limply under my ministrations. Even when they got rather- personal. I'd never done anything like it before and it was a distinctly uncomfortable process. _Damn, I feel like I'm groping him._

I couldn't help blushing again. Finishing up hastily, I threw the towel on the cover figuring they both needed washed anyway, and wrapped the beach towels around his waist and shoulders.

More at ease once he was covered and dry, I acknowledged how clammy and uncomfortable my clothes had become. Seized by the desire to be dry, I gripped the edge of my tee and costume solidly and yanked both over my head. They came away with the same squicky sound of pulling off a Band-Aid. Disgusted, I grabbed the remaining towel and swiped the water off my chest and arms. Immediately I felt better, less itchy anyway. _Halfway there,_ I quickly toed off my shoes and kicked them away. _I don't understand._ I flipped the button open on my fly and unzipped. _Whatever's going on why didn't Richie come to me?_ Hooking my thumbs under everything: pants, shorts, boxers, I shoved them down. _Why did he do this?_ I recalled the tornado of shed clothes and the shower scene. Wincing, I stepped out of the mass of soggy fabric. _It's just so… So bizarre. And frightening,_ I admitted, standing only in my socks. Hurriedly, I bent over and removed them as my skin reacted to the air, firming with goose bumps. Grabbing the towel again, I quickly mopped down the rest of my body.

 _I'm scared. Really scared. And I think I've said that already. But damn it bears friggin' repeating!_ Glancing at Richie, I was dismayed to see he looked tortured even in exhausted unconsciousness. All the times I held him after a nightmare, lying in my bed or even on this sofa, and I had never seen his troubles linger like this before.

The towel joined its friends on the floor as I pulled the clean boxers out of the pile and stepped into them. _I've never_ _seen Richie react like this. Hell, I've never seen anyone do anything like this._ Picking up my t-shirt and pulling it over my head, I frowned. _So what is going on? And I'm repeating myself again._ One of my many pairs of black jeans slithered up my legs with a swift pull. Zipping up was almost comforting; it was so ordinary.

Pausing, I looked again at my friend. He'd shifted in his sleep a little. _He's probably waking up._ Unable to resist the need for reassurance, although the need to reassure him and me was pretty mixed up, I reached out and gently touched the smooth skin of his right cheek.

I was slammed back as **_/hate/pain/terror/_** ripped into my mind. My thighs hit the hard edge of the mini fridge with enough force to bruise, but that pain was almost a relief from the agony. Nausea rippled through me and I grabbed for anything, fingers scrabbling on the wall behind me trying to hold on to reality. s _top. please..._ I pleaded not knowing who I was begging.

(Richie's POV)

Nightmare flashes meshed together. Like most of my dreams, there was the vague knowledge that it was a dream hovering around the edges. Yet as I participated in my humiliation again, I could change nothing. The plot line was nonlinear so when I felt Her touch on my cheek I knew that she was back to do it to me again. Throwing up my defenses, I lashed out with all my pain and anger. Hurling my emotions back at Her like a slash of teeth and claws, I drove Her back. Triumphant, bloated with my victory, I readied another strike, only to hear the whimpered entreaty, **_/stop/please…/_**

 _Virgil!_ Eyes popping open, I saw what I'd done. Lines of pain were etched on his face among the tracks of his tears. He was sitting on the fridge; his whole body was trembling, his bare chest was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and his fists clenched rhythmically at his sides.

I felt the rough cloth surrounding me and I realized that my friend had pulled me back from the brink, seen to my needs, and I had attacked him. Shrinking back into the couch, I grabbed the edges of the towel and pulled it closer around me. I felt sick with shock. _How could I?_

"Richie?"

I looked up to see Vee'd gotten himself under control. He'd even hastily wiped away the tears, missing a shiny patch at the chin. He was looking at me like he was afraid to touch me. I felt my heartbreak even more.

"yeah." I was surprised at how small my voice sounded. I hadn't sounded like that since I was five. Too shaken up to really think about it, I waited for him to say something, anything to make me feel less contaminated and untouchable.

"What just happened?" Though his words were almost deadly calm, I could hear the undercurrent fear in them.

I flinched. "I'm sorry."

(Virgil's POV)

My bones felt like mush. Recharging the Watchtower hadn't taken this much out of me. However, I was more concerned with the fact that Richie was trying to merge with the couch. I wanted to reach out and reassure him that it was going to be alright, but with what had happened the last time I did that…

Restraining the impulse, I asked gently, "For what, Richie?" He looked so damn lost and scared.

Suddenly, Richie straightened, visibly steeling himself. Defensively, he said, "I'm an Empath. I attacked you empathically." Caught off guard by the rapid change in his demeanor, I almost missed what he had said.

Everything was happening so fast I was too jumbled up to do anything but blurt out, "Since when?"

"The Island of Doctor Alva." I expected Richie to sound sarcastic, angry, anything but sort of listlessly causal about the megalomaniac in our lives. It was creepifying. His eyes flickered up touching mine then were focused on the floor again. "I did a Madeline Spalding."

 _Three days ago_. Frowning, I admitted that saying something about that fact would be pretty hypocritical but it stuck out.

Part of me really hoped that this new power was the problem. That maybe he was overloaded by feelings and that's why he freaked at school. But the rational part of me pointed out that three days was plenty of time to adjust to Bang powers.

Biting the bullet, I asked, "What happened today, Richie?" He flinched again. The new power, and the omission of it, was already out so it wasn't the bad thing. My heart sank.

"Yesterday. It happened yesterday." The deadly pain sheathed in those words ripped at my skin. The tightly controlled way he held himself hurt even more. He still wouldn't look at me, but he looked like if I tapped him he'd shatter.

Feeling like I was going to throw up, worried out of my mind by the way my friend was acting, I whispered, "what?"

"I was raped."

(Richie's POV)

I'd been reaching out tentatively the last few minutes, trying to tell how Virgil felt, if he was disgusted with me for what I'd done, keeping my new abilities from him, attacking him. My shields were only open a crack, hope making me want to be closer to him. I almost retreated completely from the chaos roaring in his heart, but my hope was nurtured by the lack of censor I felt as I revealed my secrets.

When I got to the last one, the big one, I almost couldn't get it out. Admitting it out loud made it real. Saying nothing would be easier; maybe then I could go back to pretending it hadn't happened. But my traitorous heart whispered, _What if she goes after Virgil when she's done with you?_ Closing my eyes, I could see it. Her dirty bloody hands on him. I almost threw up again. Choking on the words I said, "I was raped."

I shivered. Raped. I hadn't said that word even in my own mind. It made me feel like a victim. It was so ugly and dirty.

There was a pause in Vee's emotions like a wave reaching its height then crashing over. It swamped the crack I'd left open, spreading like a red haze. Catching in my throat and blurring my eyes, I thought the rage that had taken Vee at the wife beater's house had been terrifying. **_/reaching/rendering/die/_** As suddenly as it had swept through me it cut off and I was left breathless. I looked up into his face and I could tell that he had shut off his emotions deliberately, sparing me from them. It hurt a little, being closed off from him, but I was grateful. I was having enough problems dealing with **my** emotions fluctuating between wanting to crawl under the floorboards so no one could touch me again and throwing myself into Vee's arms. But I was worried I wouldn't be welcome.

Still, I couldn't stop the relieved tears that gathered in my eyes. _He believes me._ Part of me had feared he wouldn't. I'm a guy. We don't get raped. Soon I was bawling again, unable to contain- just everything. And then Virgil's arms surrounded me, pouring his warmth into my cold body, and I wrapped myself around him so glad that I wasn't untouchable to him. Burying my face into his bare chest, I babbled, saying anything, everything just holding on to the only solid thing in my life.

(Virgil's POV)

I'd learned a few tricks since Spalding, mostly stuff I'd picked up off New Age websites. Some of it seemed pretty hokey and I felt sort of stupid practicing, but I figured if it kept uninvited visitors out of my brain then what the heck. Employing every one I even vaguely remembered, I closed off my 'aura'. Richie didn't need to feel what I was feeling about his revelation on top of everything else. The way his face had paled already was a damn good sign of that.

Bloodthirsty. That was the only way to describe it. Dead. The person who did this was **dead**. I'd seen some horrible things since the Bang and I wanted to do every one of them to Richie's rapist as soon as I knew who it was. Images of mayhem flashed through my mind.

The tears that suddenly appeared on Richie's face had me panicking again. _What?_ Unthinking, I rushed forward and enveloped him in my arms like I had in the shower, only worrying that he might not want to be touched after. I would have pulled back, but he clutched me like a teddy bear. Pulling him even closer, I felt his tears rolling down my skin. Then he started talking.

"Blocked it all out til I saw her again. Wish I still couldn't remember. Waited for me in the parking lot after school. I think she's a mutant. She's had her powers too long and didn't live around here for the Bang. Think her father raped her when her powers came on line. Told herself she did it on purpose, made her less like a victim. Shot his brains out. Think it was the shock that did her in. Enjoys it now. Said she picked me cause I was hard to get, had to use her full power. She induces sexual attraction with pheromones. She's a talker. Never stopped, not even when she was- doing me. Couldn't have handled it again. She had a bet I'd kill myself, would have won…"

After that, I couldn't hear anymore. Nothing filtered through my brain. _Mine._ I growled silently and gripped Richie closer. My lip snarled at my unseen enemy. I'd been freaked out by my possessiveness earlier but I wasn't any longer. Richie needed a little possessiveness after this by my reckoning. The urge to get up and shred the bitch, Blaise Makil, that thought she could do this to what was mine was almost over powering.

 _Not right now. Richie needs you._ I told myself. I wasn't about to leave him alone like this, still rambling and crying.

Eventually, though, his outpouring tapered off and his breath fluttered warmly on my arm as he slept. I just sat there holding him for a moment. Reveling in the fact that he was here and warm not cold and dead. Holding him in my arms, I felt that I could make everything alright again and would.

Gently untangling myself from him, I held on to my purpose. Find her. Kill her. Lowering Richie down on to the sofa and pulling his feet up, I made sure he was tucked fully under the towels. He curled up tighter in my absence looking so small and broken. I hesitated, torn, knowing that he could probably actually **feel** my absence, but knowing it had to be done. Silently, I padded my way back to the laundry room.

When I emerged again it was as Static, the shield of my power resting like a mantle on my shoulders. The same cold determination gleaming out from under my mask. I headed over to the computer in the front room, a simple one for me to use since my brain wasn't advanced enough to handle the input from Backpack, and quickly hacked into the school database. Finding what I needed, I quickly memorized it.

Pausing, I went back to the rec room. I stood above the vulnerable form of my friend, fists clenched. I knew I wasn't supposed to be feeling the way I was. Me good guy after all. Supposed to try and save everyone, including my enemies. Supposed to pity them, fight them, not hate them. I shook my head. _No, hate wasn't quite right_ Truth was it was too small. Wanting to savage her into tiny unrecognizable human bits sounded about right. The feeling eclipsed anything I'd ever felt before. I wanted to kill her and I was going to. Petting Richie's silky hair one final time, I embraced the boiling anger in my veins, embracing the thing I was going to do. There was no way she was going to hurt him ever again.

1\. _Because of You-_ Kelly Clarkson


	10. Serpent Under 't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Don't die of shock now, here's the next chapter.

A/N: Don't die of shock now, here's the next chapter.

Thanks as always to my beta: Estel Baggins.

Serpent Under 't

(Virgil's POV)

Daylight still lit the sky as I rode on my way to commit murder. It was fading into dusk, losing the fight against the dark. Damn appropriate in my eyes. No matter what we do, what we stop from happening, it isn't enough. I always knew that, but I figured I'd make my little piece of the world better. You can't save them all, but I was going to save some of them. Maybe that's why this hurt so much. It felt almost like all those good deeds, all those lives saved, should have incurred in some kind of metaphysical savings bank to prevent harm coming to those I loved. Silly of me to think somehow I'd save those who meant the most to me.

 _Silly. Well, one good plasma blast should do it. Hard to ID anything when all that's left is a pile of ashes._ Deep in my heart I couldn't bring myself to torture the she-bitch. Oh, she deserved it a thousand times over, probably more than that, but putting a rabid dog down should be quick. She wouldn't know what hit her. My plasma blast would incinerate her before her nerves had time to relay anything. It wasn't really satisfying.

For the first time I truly wished that Time Zone hadn't used her time travel powers to ensure that she had no time travel powers. Every other obstacle I found a way around, a way to cope and in the end I couldn't justify screwing up her life just to have a reset button, but this one… it should never have happened and I couldn't- _Fuck._ Quickly I reached up and tried to catch the tears before they fell into my mask.

 _Get a grip, Virgil, you're slipping all over the place._ I shoved all the pain and torment I felt back and concentrated on the Dakota skyline. I had to do this, then I had to get back to Richie. There was no way I was leaving him alone to deal with this- and I was getting close. One thing about patrolling the city every night is: after a while you're never going to get lost again. I was swiftly approaching my destination.

Suddenly a scream reverberated up the building walls into the air. High-pitched and full of fear I judged it as female, desperate, and alone. Instinct had me dropping into the alleyway before thought caught up with me. The typical sight of three muggers ganging up on a rather mousy woman in a cheap business suit was appropriate for this neighborhood. It wasn't one of the lowest ranking salary areas but it was close enough for some of the bad elements to bleed over. Obviously the lady was someone's secretary. It would have amazed me if she had ten bucks on her.

There was a second where I hesitated; this wasn't what I was out for. Surely one person in this city could take care of herself without me coming to their rescue. Ashamed of myself, I shook that thought off. _Being a hero means you help the helpless, it doesn't matter if it conflicts with your schedule._

Annoyed and impatient, the paling faces of the street thugs were gratifying as I dropped in on their nightly work. "Boys, this just ain't been your night." The lady took that as her cue to beat feet. She was no fool and I had to smile a little as I saw her kick off her heels and make a skid around a corner barefoot.

My smile faded fast as I turned my attention back to the three stooges. A hasty and dirty burst of static electricity had everything they owned made of metal sticking to the bricks, including one bozo's studded jacket. Now they took that as their cue to exit stage right. About to send another burst of my "static cling" with the attention of having them join their weapons so the police could pick them up I was interrupted by, "My, my, I saw the fireworks and thought I'd check it out. Who would of thought I'd run into Dakota's number one superhero out here on his lonesome?"

Slowly I turned around to see the bitch I'd come looking for poised in the alley opening. Electricity still in hand I fed it more power, transforming it. Then, quicker than I would have given her credit for, she was in my face grabbing my arm. Lips next to my ear, her hot breath tracing the tip, she whispered, "Never done a superhero before."

The jolt of physical desire hit me like a kick from Kangor. Abruptly it was like thinking through molasses. It was really, really hard- in more ways than one. My focus was shot to shit. Unable to hold it together, my plasma bomb dissipated from my trembling fingers. With a sinking feeling, I realized that with my body betraying me I couldn't kill her. I was barely managing to keep myself from jumping her right here and now. That ounce of control though was my only shot. If Richie'd had had it there was no way she would have got him. No, she thought I was already caught. That was my leverage. What to do with it?

 _And I can't just run for the hills; she'll use all her whammy on me next time._ A flash of anger shot through me. _Time for a Plan B._ The skill I put into planning my attacks on meta-humans raced through what facts I had. They were skimpy and I didn't have the option of retreating and reassessing. That flash of insight that had aided me so many times struck as the seconds ticked away. One really disgusting plan was all I had left, because there was no turning back. _Plan B sucks._

I roughly grabbed the whore and crushed her lips into mine. There was nothing sweet in our kiss. Savagely, I dominated her mouth, bruising her lips and clashing teeth. It was hot and fierce and I hated every minute of it even if my body shook with arousal.

The dazed expression on her face when I pulled back for air was almost worth it.

"Well," she said breathily, "I can see the advantages." I seethed, baring my teeth at her. Mistaking the intent of my actions she laughed with gusto, "Good to see you know what you're doing. Virgins are fun but trainin's a bitch."

I almost snorted. At least thought reading wasn't included in her powers- the furthest I'd ever gotten was third base at summer camp. Rumors had been floating around about mutants for years but they were all my sister's friend's boyfriend's cousin kind of thing and I didn't know much of anything about them. In a way the Bang Babies were lucky that they could point to some sort of outside force for their creation. I'd heard more than a little bigoted talk against mutants and how at least the Bang Babies weren't "genetically tainted". Although if this crazy bitch was a representative of the mutant race I could kinda understand the stigma against them.

Still, I wasn't going to enlighten her to my sexual status and I **was** going to use what I knew along with something a little **extra** that was hopefully going to end her dominatrix routine. Smirking, I pulled her close again. "What's say we take this somewhere with a bed, eh?" With all the adrenaline and god knows what she was pumping into my body, it wasn't hard to turn my anger into a husky bedroom whisper.

Her eyes sparkled evilly. "You read my mind." As she pulled away and headed out the alley, I sneered inside. _Nah-ha._

I followed her swaying hips my hand grasped firmly in hers. Probably a precaution on her part; I noticed that her powers hadn't had an effect until she'd grabbed me. Letting go before she had me in her lair might allow her victim to escape. Her back received another snarl even as I followed meekly along.

"I usually don't play with two people at once. Maybe I should, hmm? Could be more challenging. Not that you're going to be too difficult. I didn't even have to amp it up for you. I tell you, if you weren't a superhero I wouldn't have bothered, but I think I'm going to enjoy this; you're pretty kinky." As we passed through her doorway I couldn't help thinking, _Boy, Richie was right. She is a talker._

"You've probably got a lot of reserves? I can't see a super- _hero_ ," The sarcasm dripping off the word could have burned a hole in her carpeting, "having a weak will. A boy scout like you… I know I'll make you kill someone for me. Some kid maybe? A sacrifice for love, that'll be grand. I can watch your mind rip itself apart with guilt before you finally give in and do it." My stomach heaved at the calm way she talked about destroying people's lives. "Bet it'll take a while for it to happen. That's alright, I can't imagine the kid I picked up yesterday lasting much longer. I'll be able to focus on breaking you. It'll be delicious."

Gritting my teeth, I promised, _Creepy, revolting girl you aren't going to have the chance to get at him ever again._

Despite my resolve, the scariest part came when we crossed the threshold of her bedroom. Lost in my own thoughts, I tuned her out. Was I really going to do this? I'd never used my body as a weapon before. I was bargaining away a part of myself. My innocence maybe? It made me wonder if I was any better than the monster I was planning on destroying, any less of a whore.

In the end guilt didn't stand a chance against the knowledge of what would happen if I backed out.

Gripping her shoulder, I swung her around to face me. Her lips were still moving. I paused, _She really is beautiful... Shakespeare was right. Foul is Fair and Fair is Foul._ This time her lipstick had worn off and I tasted the dried blood and peaches of her mouth. I almost gagged as I bit her lip violently, then was compelled to lick it soothingly. Her groan reverberated through her chest into mine. The heat that pulsed through my body was as false as a white dude's gangster rap but it was so enticing. I felt myself falling into the sensation…

With a gasp I threw her away, disgusted with myself. Only by luck did she land on her bed. She bounced on the mattress, a look of surprise on her face that quickly turned into passion.

"I always enjoyed a striptease," she drawled as she reached up to the first button on her cotton blouse. I stood panting, trying to regain some semblance of control, while she slowly revealed her perfectly rounded breasts barely contained in a lacy white bra. I closed my eyes. I heard myself groan distantly still too much in her trap to not be effected. _Keep it together. You can do this._

"Awah, you're not watching." My eyes snapped open. It was then that I saw the first sign that I wasn't debasing myself for nothing. Under the shifting of her muscles, directly below the edges of her collarbones I saw two quarter sized swellings. She noticed my stare, "Oh those, they're such a pain, can't wear anything sleeveless but it lets me do this." Suddenly, I felt another surge of pleasure race along my bones, not as strong as before, but it didn't have to be. I **_ached_**.

Gulping in air, I acknowledged, _Okay, she doesn't have to be in physical contact. It just helps._ Another fact filed away, I moved forward as she went to pull off her panties. I didn't think I could keep it together if I saw her in all her glory. She was disturbingly beautiful and her powers made it even worse. I grabbed her wrists and pulled them up over her head, not holding back an ounce of strength. I was bruising her wrists and I knew it. As I leaned in pressing into her body for another kiss she murmured, "You really do like it rough don't you?"

 _Shut up,_ I growled.

No gentler than any of our other kisses, my tongue snaked into her mouth in a kiss that forced her into submission. My hands however were gathering a charge. I'd never tried this on another human being but I figured nerve endings work the same on us all; I'd just use a lower charge. The electricity lapped at my already excited fingers. Maintaining my concentration was even worse now with how worked up my body was but this activity was parallel to what my body thought it wanted so it at least made no protest.

Softly, tracing down her pale arm with my left hand, I let my power flow into her skin, finding all her pleasure receptors and rippling over them. Her mouth broke away from mine with a whimper as she writhed under me. When she opened her eyes again her kiss-bruised mouth parted in a moan, "Hell, there certainly are advantages."

Deliberately, I began moving my right hand and she started panting in anticipation. Releasing the energy, I found it easier this time, since all her focus was definitely not on **me** anymore. After she stilled again, I reclaimed her mouth. I was still hard and aroused but not so much anymore. It was time for the final act.

Brushing over the top of her breasts I causally placed my fingers over what had to be the enlarged glands that granted her powers. With more precision than I would have been capable of a moment ago, I flowed energy into her in simultaneous differing degrees. While the skin around the target got the same burst of pleasure as before the glands got a highly concentrated cauterizing dose. I was careful but not that careful. She probably lost some muscle, but I couldn't find it in myself to feel bad about it. I kept kissing her as her hands moved down my back and under my coat. Even through my shirt her hands still felt great. _Please let it have worked._ Doubt poked me in the eye. If it hadn't worked…

Nibbling down her jaw with hard bites, wanting to hurt her if I couldn't stop wanting her, I stopped at her chin. The desire to drill her into the mattress was lessening.

 _Things are looking up._ Relieved, I pushed away from her and began climbing off the bed. Standing above her, looking down at her sprawled debauched form, all I felt was satisfaction. I'd taken from her the one thing she valued. My smile was not nice.

Confused, she propped herself up on her elbows. "What are you doing?"

"Stopping you."

My simple statement brought a wash of rage to her face and it was totally petty of me but I enjoyed it, just not as much as the confusion that followed. _Guess she tried her mind trick._

She lunged at me, hands clawed. "What did you do?"

I caught her wrists again. Pulling her face close to mine I said, "You're fixed, lady; find a dildo."

She wrenched herself free, picked up her lamp, and threw it at me. " **YOU SON OF A BITCH!** " I sidestepped the lamp, which shattered on the wall.

It occurred to me that I could kill her now, but the feral look on her face told me that leaving her neutered would be a worse punishment for all the lives she ruined. When I set out to kill her it was because I knew she'd never see the inside of a prison cell. Not with her powers and her beautiful face. Even with all the meta-humans in Dakota, no jury would convict her. Rape is hard enough to prove under most circumstances. How would Richie ever be able to prove that he didn't want it?

My gut clenched at the very thought of anyone seeing the devastation the bitch had put him through and not seeing it as the truth.

She'd had to die to protect Richie, to pay for all her crimes.

A large part of me still wanted to kill her. Even now when she was no longer a threat.

And yet part of me couldn't do it. I already felt filthy. Let her live with herself, I hoped she enjoyed being powerless, maybe she'd reform, though taking the light of madness shining in her eyes into account I doubted it. Ducking a wicker dresser this time, I flipped out my disc and charged it. Something hit it and shattered, dropping the disc to the floor I stepped on to it while the half naked crazy girl was scrambling for ammunition. Zapping her window open I flew out.

Halfway down the block I could still hear crashing, then it stopped. I knew it was stupid even as I did it, but something made me look back. Flames were licking out of the window I had exited, lighting the night air.

Crouched, hovering mid air, I watched as they spread, growing. A true hero would have turned around and saved her no matter what she'd done. I'd saved Alva and he ruined who knows how many lives. How was her life different? Turning my head away from the fire, I started flying back to Richie. I couldn't kill her. In the end I couldn't bring myself to save her either.

(Richie's POV)

It was the fingers running through my hair that woke me. The tingling felt great and I relaxed into, it nuzzling against something warm and resilient. Bad dreams and haunting images hovered in the back of my mind but whatever they were they didn't have enough power to pull me under. I hadn't felt so content in ages and I just wanted to enjoy the novelty. However as time continued on it occurred to me that petting was more than a little unusual. Good, but new. Memories came trickling back and it occurred to me that considering that Vee had to be the one with his hand in my hair, the thing I was using as a pillow was in fact my best friend's thigh. I stiffened, coming fully awake. The hand on my head stilled.

"Richie?" Vee's tentative voice made me hold my breath. Resonating down with the words was a feeling of **/happy/protect/worry about you/**. Our link was wide open. Maybe it was wrong, but I couldn't find the strength to try and turn away from the affection I felt coming from him. He was the only thing keeping the terror from swamping me.

"Vee," I breathed out. _Don't leave me._ I begged. I had the scary certainty that if Vee pulled away now I'd shatter into a billion pieces. Opening my eyes, I looked up into his face. The lights were off and it had gotten darker but I could see that holding me was Static without his mask on.

For a confusing moment I couldn't recall if Vee'd been wearing his uniform before. Then the hand on my head moved down to my shoulder. Vee hauled me closer, terry cloth rubbing on my skin. Being squished into my best friend wasn't too bad; though the wordless elation and turmoil that roiled down at me wasn't the best. His words, "She's dead. She won't ever hurt you again," blew my mind, totally blank, then it jumpstarted again.

"Did you kill her?" I gripped his thigh hard, terrified for my friend. Of the consequences of his actions. I saw jail. I saw him taken away. I saw the end to the man I called my best friend.

His eyes and emotions were tinged with an odd pain filled with too many shades for me to fully grasp. "I wanted to, so badly-" Vee's grip tightened then relaxed- "I was going to… I had it all planned out." He shook his head. "I didn't kill her. She killed herself after I zapped her power source. All that matters is that she's gone."

 ** _/guilt/relief/shame/_** wafted down at me and I knew I couldn't leave it at that. Knowing it might be easier to answer if he didn't have to look at me I settled my head back against his chest and asked softly, "Then why do you feel so bad?"

The feeling of Vee's muscles tensing along my back told me I'd hit him hard. For a second his emotions shuttered closed. It hurt being cut off; even though I understood the desire to back away from the pain, I felt adrift without him.

It was a risk to push. Things felt so fragile, within me and within him, but my trust in Virgil was the one absolute I had left and I hoped that the same was true for him. If there was one solid fact in our friendship it was that Vee talked to me. Something told me that he needed to talk about this. I wasn't going to play 'who's pain is bigger' with my best friend. Yes I was hurting, yes I didn't know how to fix it, but I could sit and whine about it or I could try and help him.

When he gave in it was different. His presence flooded back into my mind full of heartache but reaching out to me, using my new power to tell me more than he ever could before. It was as if he was letting me feel it all, trying to help me to understand, and as he whispered in the semi dark, emotion showed me his words true meaning. "Because she's dead and I wanted her dead. Because I feel responsible. Because it's the opposite of what I thought I was. Because she made me feel so out of control and used and because part of me liked it." There was no way to verbalize the sensation. But I **knew** how Vee had felt at the very moment when he had left her to die as if it'd been me who'd done it… and how he felt that very moment holding me. And that scared me more than anything because what he felt so closely resembled the wounded way I was.

Heart in my throat, still caught in our merger. I closed my eyes, "Did she rape you?" _Please say no. Not you too._

"Almost." A few tears leaked out of both our eyes. I could feel mine and his rolling down our cheeks, "I had to get close to her some how."

I reached up to clutch the arm around my chest. We sat in silence our emotions mingled to the point where we couldn't tell who was feeling what. Two souls trying to heal and holding each other up.

 _"Look the innocent flower, but be the serpent under 't." -Lady Macbeth to Lord Macbeth on how to act around King Duncan while plotting his assassination_


	11. Water Flows, River Stays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Water Flows, River Stays

Water Flows, River Stays

(Richie's POV)

Several hours had passed and I felt as wrung out as Kobe Bryant after his wife got through with him. I knew I should have been embarrassed and maybe a little scared by the easy way Virgil and I had submerged in each other's pain, but truthfully I was feeling sort of numb. Too many things had hit me and I figure my emotions decided to take a little vacation. Plus, what had happened felt- distant. Sort of scabbed over. It still pulsed with dull pain but I didn't think I was going to collapse into a shivering wreck again. The memory of that helplessness sent a quiver done my spine. Instinctively, I leaned on Vee and felt him respond with a gentle brush of emotion. The easy give and take felt so natural, not like something that hadn't existed before yesterday.

 _Well, it existed. Vee just didn't know about it._ And, oh boy, was I relieved that he took it so well. When we'd gradually separated back into different people, the connection remained, so much more obvious than before. The freak-out I had expected didn't occur. Neither Virgil nor I had made a move to leave the couch. Truthfully, I couldn't think of anywhere I'd rather be. I was glad he felt the same.

Most men would be ashamed to cuddle even a member of their family let alone their best friend. The easy way Vee gave comfort was one of the reasons I fell in love with him, with his whole family. Just being with them, seeing the affection they showed so openly, was more seductive than any pin-up. There was no turning away from that.

We ended up watching television, more out of habit than any real desire. We hadn't wanted to separate. I had felt our mutual desire to stay together, so I had ordered Backpack to switch on the TV. That's how we came to be watching the news and the breaking story on the fire that had claimed the life of a sixteen-year-old girl.

The perky brunette anchorwoman was standing in front of a burned-out building. _"_ It seems that the fire originated in the bedroom of Blaise Makil, who was just sixteen. Initial findings point to an old-fashioned turpentine lamp as the accelerant in this fire. A faulty outlet appears to be the cause. Her body was discovered a little over twenty minutes ago. Officials are calling this a tragic accident. Here with me is the young woman's mother."

The tear-streaked face of the woman I had briefly glimpsed an eternity ago was pulled into close-up. Shaking hands came up and covered her eyes. "She's gone. She's really gone."

"She looks so… _relieved_." I whispered, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice.

There was nothing wrong with her words. She sounded exactly like a grieving mother should- except she didn't. Maybe it was because I knew what really happened in that house, but I saw the sloped shoulders of a woman shaking with relief instead of anguish.

The movement of Vee's chest muscles against the back of my head let me know he was nodding. **_/agreement/shock/_** "How horrible do you have to be that your own mother doesn't miss you?"

As the screen switched to the weather forecast, I flashed back to my glimpse of the mousy woman I saw in those awful moments. Somberly, I closed my eyes. "I imagine she was scared every day of her life. Scared of her own daughter. Scared for her very sanity, unable to tell anyone, unable to stop her own thoughts. Disgusted with herself and terrified of the future." My stomach roiled back and forth and those wounds I had thought so distant pricked my eyelids with tears.

Vee tightened his grip, rubbing the dry towel into my shoulder. I heard him swallow heavily, "Richie?" **_/worry/reflected pain/_**

The question lay unspoken between us because we both knew that the only truth hurt too much to say. No, I wasn't alright.

I squeezed the forearm wrapped around my chest, giving reassurance even though it was a lie. As the closing for the broadcast started to roll up I felt a wave of **_/hesitancy/_** roll out of Vee.

"You've got to go." I managed to keep the bitterness from my voice but I doubted I was as successful with my emotions.

"Yeah." A brush of fingers over my knuckles then he pulled out of my grip and slid out from under me. **_/regret/annoyance with other/_** "I haven't been showing up for enough meals lately. I got a chewing out the other day."

I shrugged despondently. He had to go. I could tell he didn't want to and I still didn't want to let him go. _You're being a baby again._ A voice in my head whispered. _He can't always be your security blanket._

There was more hesitation on his part when I wouldn't look at him. I could tell he was going to offer to stay. While part of me desperately wanted to scream at him to not leave another was growing rather sure that I was pathetic. I hadn't even gotten up to change into clothes since he'd carried me in here and placed me on the couch. I'd just broken down and made him pick up the pieces. _And of course he can feel all this and you're making him feel guilty._ Determinedly, I focused my emotions into a more neutral area.

Tugging at the rather loose towel around my waist, I stood up. The world tilted a little but I managed to right it again. I looked Vee in the eye and said, "I probably should head home too before my mom sends out the search parties." Only after I said it did I realize how true it probably was: my mom hadn't seen me in over four days. With a sinking gut I knew I'd be going home tonight. Quickly, I steered my thoughts away from that before Vee caught on. _No guilt trips._

Our link pulsed between us and for a moment I felt that he might throw my bullshit back in my face, but he backed down instead. "I'll see you tomorrow, Rich."

As soon as he was out of the room I sagged against the arm of the couch. His presence faded away til it was an ethereal murmur. I was alone.

I clenched my fist against my thigh and let out a deep breath. I could feel my fingers wanting to twitch. I looked around the den. The TV was still blaring away, but I didn't see what was on anymore. I felt naked and afraid even here. It wasn't an on-rush of fear like before. But it still seemed to whisper in the corners making me want to close my eyes and hide.

 _Get off your ass and get armed, you idiot._

Shaking off my fear as best I could, I headed into the laundry room in search of my Gear outfit, ordering Backpack to skitter along behind me.

(Virgil's POV)

Mashed potato mountains were taking shape on my plate but I didn't really care. I wasn't hungry. Oh, boy was I not hungry. In fact I would have liked nothing more than to skip this family dinner and still be sitting on the couch with Richie.

Everything seemed so… hollow and discolored. I'd experienced some backlash trying to fit back into my non-superhero life before but nothing like this. Part of me kept reaching out for Richie and every time I came up empty it hurt. _How can I miss something I've only known for a few hours so much?_

There was nothing to compare it to. Even when I'd first deliberately tried to connect with Richie using his new power I hadn't realized I'd feel him like that. I'd just wanted him to know I trusted him and maybe selfishly I wanted him to really **understand** in that way a person just can't when it's only words.

People always hunger for some sort of connection, to not feel alone. When they don't get it that's when suicide starts to look so appealing. Luckily for me, my life has never lacked the affection and understanding that normal people use to connect with the others.

Normal people.

That's the crux, because for the first time I'd felt a deeper connection and somehow I'd gotten addicted to that as well. The tiny niggle left in the corner of my mind wasn't nearly enough. I wanted that extra dimension of reality back, now. _Which translates to: Richie, now._

I groaned internally as I forked another lump onto a budding pile. _This is so not going to help with my obsession._ Although, I'd sort of already decided to put that problem on hold for a while. It wasn't at a dangerous level and if I had to tell the truth I didn't think either of us could stand to be apart. Not when there was no one else who understood, who could make the hurt fade even a little.

I couldn't look into the faces of my sister or my father. The urge to confess was too strong. I wanted to break down, shout at the world, beat my fists on the table, say, "Don't you see me, that something's wrong?", get their attention, get their love to try and cover the holes left when I'd sacrificed myself.

It wasn't going to happen, though. They would look at me differently. They would start to pay attention to all the things I couldn't afford their attention on. This secret could reveal all the others.

Twisted maybe, but I couldn't give up the skies, helping people, the freedom and strength I'd found in my alter ego. It meant too much to me. If I told there'd be no more late nights alone in the sky with Richie, fighting the good fight, or ecstatic moments of discovery in our workshop. How could I give that up? It would hurt as much as surrendering to her devil's kiss.

 _It burnt so bad._ Gore rose up in my throat and I could almost feel her lips again. Quickly, I swallowed, forcing it down. With grim determination I scooped another forkful of potatoes. This one I detoured into my mouth. I swallowed it before I had to taste it. Even though they hadn't looked poisonous for once I figured they'd taste like paste anyway, I was in no mood to enjoy food. Several more bites and I couldn't do it anymore. I pushed my plate away and stood up. Looking up for the first time I said, "'Nite."

I beat a fast retreat, knowing what I was running from wasn't going to stay downstairs. I burst into my room and stumbled to a halt. Streetlights shone in through my window, making my mess entirely visible. I didn't bother turning on the electricity, just shuffled over to my bed and started stripping down.

Then, sitting on the edge of my bed in my boxers, I stared at the wall consciously not looking at the street clothes and the uniform mingled together on the floor. I wasn't sure who I was anymore. I wasn't sure… about anything.

Reaching out into nothingness I could feel the smoothness of Richie's face under my palm almost like he was there. I felt his warmth and his concern and then it was gone and my fingertips registered only the cool air.

Shaking my head at my foolishness, I bent down and picked up the incriminating pieces of cloth and moved over to my closet. I stopped in front of the mirrored door, seeing a distorted, darkened image of myself in it. Irrationally afraid, I shoved the door open and deposited my stuff as quickly as possible. I went back to bed without once glancing back at the mirror.

Once I was in bed I closed my eyes and before I knew it darkness pulled me down.

(Richie's POV)

Even though I sort of expected it, it still hurt the way my mother didn't even question where I'd been for four days. I know for sure that if Virgil disappeared for twelve **_hours_** his father and sister would be raising all sorts of hell. _How can this be home?_ I wondered, staring at my bedroom ceiling, my eyes drawn to the spot where the missing model had hung.

Shit, as soon as I got there I wanted to turn around and leave. At the gas station, I'd practically worked myself into a panic attack thinking about what I'd be feeling when my father came home. I made myself stop thinking about it and set off although it didn't stop what I figured was an early ulcer from getting a start in my stomach.

My mom's emotions had been muted and shifty, like she was trying to hide them from herself during the quiet meal we'd shared before I managed to slip away. No way did my father have that sort of reserve and the idea of, the possibility of… My breathing quickened just thinking of it.

 _I can't take this. Not now. Please._ I hugged myself. The way  Her emotions had pushed into me had almost been worse than the physical violation. Curling up into a ball under my covers my mind ran all over the place until I dropped into a restless sleep.

Whimpering I woke, and for a second trapped between the horror of what happened and the helplessness of my home life, I thought, _I can't take this. Death would be better._ Scared by my own thoughts, I sat there shaking, paralyzed by my own desperation. No matter how bad things had gotten I'd never thought **that** before. That was a place I would not go. _No. Just. No._

But I could still feel it pressing at me, memories rising from the depths and I knew I couldn't take reliving it again, not now when everything was too much. Before I really thought about it I had rolled out of bed and gotten dressed.

Gear slipped out of my window and headed for the only safe place I knew.

(Virgil's POV)

That place between waking and dreaming held me for several seconds, trying to draw me back down into its unhappy depths. Whatever had woken me however, kept it from winning and I slowly blinked my eyes leaving behind fragmented embryonic dreams, registering first the blackness then the chill that was pressed all along my front. A breath puffed against my collarbone, almost one with the whispered, "sorry."

 _Richie._ It occurred to me that I should ask what he was doing here, practically molesting me in my sleep but really I didn't care. Pulling him closer to me with the arm that had enwrapped him while I was still unconscious, I closed my eyes and pulled with my heart as well, instinctively murmuring reassurances silently through our bond.

When I woke in the morning with my alarm blaring in my ear, I was alone with a suspicious patch of wetness on my chest. I felt it shift against my skin as I sat up and zapped my clock. Running my hand through my hair, I stared at it. Half dried, the damn thing poignantly reminded me of the cruelties of life. Standing, I started my morning routine, my usual joie de vive shot to hell.

The school had a memorial service. Why I'm not quite sure. She'd only gone to our school for two days. The way I figure it she was just **too** ' _pretty'_ to die without notice. The talk around school was it was all "how tragic", "what a waste", "she was too young"

Richie and I skipped it, holing up in the bathroom until it was over. I held his shoulder as he looked at the wall. We didn't say one word to each other for fifteen minutes, just stood as absorbed in each other as we had been back on the couch last night.

When I drew away from him, Richie looked at me with his matching wet eyes and I gave him a weak smile.

It hadn't escaped my notice that, despite the mild weather he was practically being swallowed by his hoody, or that on our desperate flight he'd managed to avoid touching anyone in the hallways. It also didn't elude me that on our way back he did the same thing.

a month later…

I'm the son of a social worker. My father has pamphlets on just about every teen issue there is at the center and I've been "volunteering" there since I was ten. Doing the math I figured I probably knew more about rape trauma than our school's health teacher slash gym teacher, with all the emphasis on the gym part. It hurt to know I was a victim just like Richie. Maybe I had set myself up for it but she still made me do things that I would never have done otherwise- made me feel dirty and used. But I'd known it could happen. Hell, I'd rushed head long into it. Richie had everything ripped away. His preconceptions and his control.

It became obvious pretty quickly that the only times Richie really relaxed was when he was alone with me or when he was Gear. Although it was strangely gratifying that Richie evaded all other touches but mine I did find the other fact… ominous? Richie taking refuge in his alternate personality too much just didn't seem like a good idea. I understood the feeling of invincibility that comes with putting on the mask that could make you regret taking it off. I also knew the helplessness under her and understood wanting to get some control back. So, I didn't say anything and made sure we got a lot of alone time to counter his dependence on Gear and hoped for the best. I was pretty much an amateur playing with psych but I wanted to help.

Maybe if I hadn't, I could have gone on in ignorance. Even having some experience with time travel, I'm not sure if there ever really is a chance to take the other road and trying to figure it out still gives me a headache.

It happened innocuously enough. As we'd been doing for weeks, Richie and I were hanging out in my living room watching TV. That day, Richie had fallen asleep during the fourth hour of Sci-Fi Channel's 'Chain Reaction' marathon of X-Files. That also wasn't uncommon. Although his late night visits had grown less frequent and so had the nightmares that sent him to me. Which we still didn't talk about. After the third time he crawled into my bed I tried to, but Richie refused. Seeing the shadows in his eyes, I just couldn't bring myself to push. Either way Riche was still having trouble sleeping at home. So I'd grow accustomed to him falling asleep on me.

Sitting in the corner with a zonked out Richie laying sprawled across my chest and the rest of the couch under a fleece blanket didn't keep me from enjoying one of the better X-File episodes I'd ever seen. It in fact was a nice addition. We were together and safe. Mind numbing television was rotting my brain and patrol wasn't for hours yet. All good. So, there I was watching this scene with Scully and the love interest of the X-File of the show talking in a high school bathroom at the lady's reunion feeling as content as I had in a long time.

The blonde, Sheila, said disbelievingly, "Not even a kiss?" Talking about Scully and Mulder and I smirked to myself. _That's what every fan ever has asked themselves._

Meanwhile Scully shook her head looking exasperated. Still smirking I thought, _I wonder just how many times she's had to say no to that one._

Sheila, who'd gotten in a lucky smooch on a distracted Mulder earlier, said, "Trust me, the man knows how to kiss. I just never thought of Holman that way, you know. He's my closest friend. And to not even suspect..."

I rolled my eyes at that and resisted making a comment that would wake the peacefully sleeping guy on my arm. Seriously, the Holman character may have been as pathetic a nerd as ever did exist but considering he'd been dogging her since high school Shelia really should have caught the clue bus.

And even though I knew Scully was just saying it because the guy Holman's control of the weather hinged on it and that Scully knew she wouldn't be getting out of the town alive if she didn't get the willfully blind-to-what-is-right-under-her-nose woman to see how much the geeky super powered guy loved her, Scully's words made my guts twist.

Scully said, "Well, it seems to me that the best relationships- the ones that last- are frequently the ones that are rooted in friendship. You know, one day you look at the person and you see something more than you did the night before. Like a switch has been flicked somewhere. And the person who was just a friend is... suddenly the only person you can ever imagine yourself with."

That was when the metaphorical brick hit my head. Dazed, I looked down at the face of my best friend -ever- and said the only words that would come to my mind. "Oh, shit." Because that was it exactly, the feeling I'd had ever since Alva's island. Maybe before then, since I came back from the future with proof that Richie and I were always going to be together. I thought I'd become obsessed but it'd been love. I felt a rush of tingles down my spine and groin as for the first time I pictured leaning down just a bit and pressing my lips to Richie's plush pink ones. A hurried jumble of images followed, explicit but none too distinct, leaving me half hard.

Yet, looking at the man pressed trustingly to my chest, I also realized I had the worst timing in the world. My heart should have been soaring. I'd found true love! But it instead was sinking, as was my arousal. The trust on Richie's face was the clincher. How could I tell my traumatized best friend who trusted me above all others not to take advantage of him, that I wanted him? That I loved him?

 _I can't._ Looking back up at the television, seeing the final credits, I knew that I couldn't say anything. That all I could do was love him, maybe for a long time, in silence. He was fragile right now, any type of excess pressure- we'd both been slogging our way back from what happened for a long time with him taking the brunt of it. No way was I going to put the guilt of not loving me on his shoulders or worse yet taking away the one person he felt comfortable enough around to relax by having him worry I was going to jump him. That would be worse than knifing him in the back.

It struck me only after I'd started despairing about betraying my friend by falling for him at such a sucky time that, duh, he was a guy and he might not even want that kind of thing from me anyway. Mentally, I groaned as I saw my problems piling up.

And really, this was the first time I'd ever pictured a male in any of my fantasies. _Shouldn't I be having a freak out about loosing my hetero membership?_

I turned my stare on the ceiling. Those self-same pamphlets in my Dad's office had covered sexuality too and I'd heard of the Kinsey studies. I wasn't seriously surprised to find out I could be attracted to a guy. A little shocked that it had happened, yeah, but it was **Richie**. There was practically nothing we hadn't shared already- I sent a bitter mental birdie at  her\- the closeness between us made it different somehow. Amusedly I thought of all the times Richie had come through for me for years, since I'd met him. _How could I not fall in love with him?_

Some half formed emotions nudged at me pulling my gaze back down to Richie's face, which had wrinkled and his hands had started to clutch at me; probably my distress was disturbing his sleep. Letting the conflict in my heart slide away as I had learned to do with strong emotions, I pulled my love closer. I resolved to wait til night, when distance had muted our connection, to feel my heartache again. I wasn't able to keep, myself, however from trying to send a silent message to him even though I knew he wouldn't hear the words, _I'll wait for you. I'll love you. I'll keep you safe. I promise._

Then turning my face to the ceiling I gave God a piece of my mind. _An X-Files episode. You made me realize I was in love through an X-Files episode. You really have a sick sense of humor, you know that? What did I ever do to you?_

A/N: By the title is a proverb that means that although the water in the river is always changing and never the same the bedrock of the river always remains. No matter how turbulent or calm the water may look it is the river that is important because it is what will still be there when it is all over. Deep, huh? That's what World Religion courses will do to you.


	12. Deceiving Oneself, Deceiving Others

A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS! HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

 

So, I’m sure many of you figured me for dead. Nope, I was just extremely burnt out post-grad from college. Took me _years_ to find my inspiration again and they sucked. I would like to give thanks to some authors who nurtured me along during these difficult times so I didn’t completely give up. These people kept my imagination alive even though it was struggling to breathe. Thank you, Vathara, Lanning Cook, Jedibuttercup, Tallihensia, Elayna, seekergeek, Mercedes Lackey, Wen Spencer, Patricia Briggs, and so many others.

 

Now on to the show.

 

 

Deceiving Oneself, Deceiving Others

 

(Virgil's POV)

 

My worst fears have always been the 'what ifs?' You know the kind that star in a thousand scifi shows. “What if I’d run instead of walked?” “What if I’d taken a left and not a right?” “What if I’d moved faster?” “What if I’d saved her?” “What if we all grew pointy beards?”

 

Usually, my nightmares were filled with such post hoc reflections. Lately, oh just the past few years or so, that meant the reels of my fights or other trials of superheroing. Then throw in some school anxieties (not the traditional show up in your underwear but more the ‘what if books get bang babied and start eating heads‘) and I figured I my head was a well rounded mess. But these days it was an unending replay of: 'What if I hadn't been able to stop her?'

 

Tonight’s horror show ended with a long sustained horn blast.

 

As I turned my head to the wall, still panting with suppressed screams, I decided that never in my life had I been happier that Dakota _isn’t_ quiet even in the middle of the night.

 

Yet, I still saw the images playing out again. This nightmare had ended but my mind had not let it go.

 **_*She moved with Richie in shadows on that bed. Their naked bodies slithering across each other in a horrific parody of love making. Dream me wanted to close my eyes, not wanting to witness how I failed my best friend. Watching him be raped made me want to blind myself*._ **

 

Now laying in the dark of reality I cursed my memory. I’d seen and touched her body and I knew I never would forget it. It was burned into my soul like a brand of shame. It really didn’t help that I knew Richie's body as well as my own. And that bed, I had lain there too. Knowledge thus supplied my nightmares with too much substance to be shaken off easily.

 

Tonight, with its thankfully broken sleep, was no exception. I was helpless to stop my mind from replaying its nasty conjuring.

 

 **_*This version had me standing in the corner as a silent observer. Tears had trickled down Richie’s cheeks painting shiny trails. His eyes had bored into mine begging me silently to make it stop all the while his body continued the ancient rhythm of sex. In my head I was yelling for her, screaming and alternatively pleading, but my lips wouldn't move.*_ **

****

**_*Betrayal grew in Richie’s eyes at my silence. Then she’d looked up. Her cherry red lips forming into a perfect smirk. Seconds later her head dropped back as she fell shaking into orgasm. I could see Richie become rigid as he followed.*_ **

Even now the false memory killed me a little.

 **_*When she rolled off him, Richie lay limp and broken. Naked and glistening in her aftermath she‘d advanced toward me. In the dream I had relived the involuntary lust I‘d felt in her presence. *_ **

****

**_*Arousal clouded dream me’s every thought, even halfway corrupting my disgust, but I had managed to maintain my focus on my best friend. He, however, turned away from me. Breaking our connection, he curled into a fetal ball. *_ **

**_*Then she was on me attacking my lips passionately- and though I wanted to gag- I could still feel my body thrumming. All I could see were her eyes digging and ripping into me. They seethed with her perverse enjoyment as she greedily stole pieces of my soul with every press of her flesh.*_ **

****

**_*When she’d pulled away, I could see the bed was a pool of blood, so much blood that it was dripping slowly, loudly to the floor. Richie’s wrists were gapping wounds torn open and oozing. He lay there naked and dead, his skin taking on that waxy look that corpses have. *_ **

Horror and gut rending grief followed me into waking as some asshole laid on the horn.

 

Closing my eyes in the dark I reminded myself **again** that it hadn't happened. It would never happen. She was dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. And I would never betray Richie like that. I loved him; nothing was going to keep me from protecting him.

 

My heart still felt bruised and my body still quaked. The nightmares had started getting really bad after I realized I was in love. I don't know why, maybe because shortly after that day Richie stopped spending half his nights in my bed. While part of me was glad he was moving past what happened and sleeping sounder, _without me,_ another larger part wanted him back here in my arms where I could feel him breathe and know he was safe.

 

Safe. Irrationally, I felt he'd be safe here, in this house surrounded by my love and my family.

 

Willfully ignoring the fact that my house had been attacked several times already and wasn’t exactly any sort of safe haven. Dad was still really pissed he had to replace the front door.

 

In a weird way that really didn't matter. Home was one of the few places I truly relax and I wanted Richie to be a part of that. I missed him here. It was like even without Richie in our house a ghost of him remained, a feeling of something there even when you know it isn't. I've even caught Dad mid-question to an invisible Richie a few times.

 

Calmer now that my mind had distanced itself from my nightmare I rolled out of bed. There was no going to back to sleep right away after that much adrenalin soaking terror. No, what I needed was a hot cup of cocoa. The way Mom used to make it on nights when thunder would scare little boys into his parents' bedroom.

 

Careful on the stairs in the mid-morning light I scratched my collarbone. I wasn't really tired anyway.  Lately, I'd sort of felt crackling with energy despite my interrupted sleep. Heck, last week I fought Ebon, who is probably my strongest enemy- though it grinds me to admit even in my own head. Kicked his ass and didn't even have to work at it.

 

I noticed after the fight Richie had thrown me a few odd looks. I think he's got a theory but doesn't want to say anything yet. _He's not as talkative as before._ My mind whispered.

 

Suddenly angry I slammed the cocoa tin against the counter.

 

Noticing the little things like that is the worst. They come at you out of no where and make everything fresh again. Prying off the lid I grabbed a smallish pot from under the sink. A couple of loose pots and pans crashed down on each other. I winced at the racket. With a sigh I set the pot on the stove and got the milk. _No matter what happens we'll never escape her totally. She's going to haunt us forever._ I just hope that with time we'll see her less. That we'll be able to heal.

 

As I poured the powder I could help but wistfully thinking, _That maybe someday Richie will be able to love me._

 

(Sharon's POV)

 

There is nothing more annoying than being jerked awake an hour before you have to get up anyway. At that point there's no use and trying to go back to sleep. Lying there trying to get back to oblivion is just an exercise in frustration.

 

Therefore, when woken from my nice warm dream involving the water of Fiji lapping at my toes and fruity drinks I decided to go and share my joy with whoever had wrecked my morning by clanging around.

 

Pissed and not caring who knew it, I stalked into the kitchen in my pink terrycloth robe and my fuzzy pink slippers. I knew I wasn’t exactly a figure to strike fear into the hearts of evil doers, but anyone with half a brain would take one look at my face and know the death of a thousand cuts.

 

 _Hrumph, if they’re up at this hour ‘half’ is probably all they’ve got_. Yanking open the kitchen door however, I almost face planted, momentum trying to carry my body forward when my brain had already ceased all motor functions. My brother was crying. Over, I took a deep breath, what smelled like a pot of hot cocoa. 

 

Silent tears aside, I knew this was serious trouble. _Cocoa_ _. Uh-oh_. As far as I know Virgil hasn’t touched the stuff since Mom'd died. It was one of her favorite cure-alls. I could remember many a problem becoming small sharing a cup with her. Whatever demons had been driving my brother lately I got the feeling that they'd decided to disturb his slumber as well- with a vengeance.

 

Gently releasing the door, I moved into the kitchen and sat.

 

It took a few moments, but when my oblivious brother turned around he stopped dead. Shock overlaid his water filled eyes. Hastily, he swiped his face obliterating the revealing tear tracks as well as his look of confusion, replacing it with belligerence.

 

Before he could get out the scathing - and I was positive distraction motivated- remark I could see twisting his lips I calmly stated, “I’d like a mug.” Virgil blinked clearly caught, and stood frozen for a moment but then continued on his way to the cup cabinet. He kept a wary eye on me the whole time. I tried to keep my face serene and nonjudgmental. Hopefully, with his defenses down I could finally catch him in a mood to have a serious talk.

 

Virgil turned off the burner and carefully poured the chocolaty mixture into the blue coffee mugs. He handed me one and sat still clearly feeling caught out since he still hadn’t tried to muddy the situation with what passes for his wit.

 

Gripping the warm porcelain, I took the opportunity to unabashedly look at my brother like I hadn’t had the chance to since the eating contest months ago. Slumped in his chair, head determinedly down, Virgil appeared to be trying to look utterly fascinated with the contents of his own mug. Whatever vulnerability may have dragged him out of bed and forced him to tears was now firmly shut down. My brother had walled himself in again. He was managing to avoid me while still being in the same room.

 

Stalling for time I took a sip. I rolled the hot liquid around my mouth savoring the taste. Virgil had hit it just right. Just a light touch of vanilla and cayenne to brighten the chocolate flavor. It called forth memories. Like my third grade crush on the bad boy Tommy Jennings who had the biggest collection of baseball cards in the class and no interest in cootie contaminated girls. Mom made it seem so easy. I spilled my guts every time.

 

Mom’s tactics were out. Virgil and I didn’t have that sort of relationship. I felt a pang at that but not a sharp one. I never wanted to be his mom, part of the reason I let our relationship get so bad after Mom’s death, but…

 

That meant falling back on what I knew. I set my mug down solidly and set my gaze on Virgil’s bowed head.

 

Humans aren’t that far removed from the caves, our hunter instincts recognize a challenge as well as any predator and a lot of human interactions are still based on those ‘base’ urges.

 

Haven’t been studying all these years for nothing me.

 

Virgil couldn’t resist for long. He snapped. “What?!”

 

Deliberately, I hung onto my composure when my first, and I could admit it, ingrained reaction was to reach across the table and whack him, “You know you can talk to me about anything right?”

 

Little bro snorted in disbelief. “Since when?”

 

That stung, the years had worn away a lot of our closeness and the bitter truth was we hadn’t talked much during them. Scream, yes. Taunt, yes. Sarcasm each other into submission, most definitely. But Virgil knew he could have come to me.

 

Softly, to make sure there was no miscommunication, I gave him all the answer we Hawkins would ever need to such nonsense, “We’re _family._ ”

 

Silence dragged on as this time Virgil refused to meet my eyes.

 

Internally, I sighed, No way could this possibly be easy. If this went too long Virgil was going to get up and leave before I could drag anything out of him. And since our conversation wasn‘t going very well anyway why not go for broke and ask what’d been bugging me for months. “Why don’t you just tell Richie you’re in love with him?”

 

I imagine he was concentrating so hard on ignoring me and what I’d asked was so out of the range of what he expected that the truth came out before he knew what he was saying, “Because with what happened I don’t think he could handle something like that right now…” Virgil’s head jerked up eyes full of dismay. I would have been almost comical how wide his eyes were if it weren’t for the strong shading of fear.

 

My first reaction was a sense of triumph. _Ha, I knew it!_ I smiled broadly trying to relieve some of the tension radiating from my bro. “What? I’m supposed to be shocked? So you’re fruity as a box of apple jacks. Come on. I already knew.” Then, I frowned. _Wait. Something’s funky. Something’s ‘happened’?_

 

I eyed my brother and he was still majorly twitchy. I was missing something. I couldn’t recall any big family announcements. They hadn’t had a fight. If anything Richie had been living here more than usual, hanging around in his big bulky sweaters, draped all over Virgil.

 

Although… Richie’d seemed to be sort of trying to fade into the woodwork. And he wasn’t so much as ‘draped’ but burrowing into…

 

Frowning harder, I realized that Richie had always found some excuse to leave the room when I came in and he was alone. Actually, he’d been downright skittish. I hadn’t been within arms reach of him in months. A _nd hell isn’t it summer? Why is Richie still wearing sweaters?_

 

Suddenly, it was my turn for the bug eyed trick as the pieces came together. I serve as volunteer counselor in my father’s underprivileged community center. While we didn’t have the quantity of crime of New York or Gotham we suffer our share of the same sort of poverty induced desperation and bitterness. Young men who know, consciously or not, that most likely there is nothing ahead of them but a brutal death and/or long prison sentences act on that anger. Father doesn’t like it, still wants to protect me from the world‘s evils, but at Freeman Center I’ve served as the non-judgmental and sympatric ear to many of their victims. And occasionally, the perpetrators.  

 

Therefore Richie’s particular actions rang an ominously familiar bell. “Shit. Virgil are you saying…?” Virgil blanched. I gripped my mug until my hand hurt. In my mind’s eye I saw Richie being dragged into a dirty back alley by a hulking shadowy figure. Or a braying bunch of jackals wearing human skins, egging each other into sadism. The pain and humiliation to follow… my imagination thankfully failed. It was too big for me. This is someone I know, someone who is like another little bro to me. _My someday brother-in-law._

 

Even already knowing this answer I asked, “Please tell me you went to the police.”

 

Virgil shook his head vigorously. “No.” He looked appalled at the suggestion.

 

I didn’t want to say it but I had to, “You know they never stop. People who commit,” I paused to find a gentler way of putting it. Being blunt is more my way but I’d never been so close before. “…that kind of assault are compulsive. And you know hiding it never helps the victim.”

 

Virgil’s eyes flashed with anger, “I handled it.”

 

Sucker punched and in shock I know my mouth was hitting the table top. There was no give in that statement. It was cold as the faces of so many of the post-juvie hall students I’d gone to school with, ones who had seen death on one end or the other.

 

Guns and knives aren’t hard to come by in Dakota. It would be so easy for Virgil to get hold of…

 

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and shoved that possibility into the recesses of my mind. I didn’t want to know. I really truly didn’t. Because I don’t know what I’d do after. Who I’d be.

 

Moving past and completely ignoring any admission of… whatever Virgil was admitting to I opened my eyes and changed the subject. “Is Richie at least seeking help?”

 

Even if Richie hadn’t been sexually assaulted, some sort of trauma had occurred. Obvious personality changes don’t spring from nothing. Some stressor had invoked defensive behaviors which could become permanent if not addressed.

 

Virgil’s face had a familiar mulish look reminiscent of his terrible twos when he refused to eat his peas and carrots.

 

 _Sigh._ “I’ll take that as a no.” I rolled my eyes. _Men. They think talking about your feelings is worse than death._ Knowing the answer already I asked,“Are you?” The question shocked him into dropping his jaw. _Dumbass. Like can’t tell he’s hurting too._ Dredging up a bit of humor from somewhere I couldn’t help but think, _These two definitely need couples therapy._

 

(Richie’s POV)

 

Thin slivers of amber light streaked the half finished projects and tools lying on my work bench. Wire filaments trailing from the tips of my new gloves seemed to shift and sparkle as if touched by life. I wasn’t going to finish them tonight. Maybe I never would. In fact that hammer was looking might-tee tempting.

 

After all it wasn’t like I could poke out my new and improved eyes. Not without a disturbing Oedipus reference, which any Freudian would have a field day with (those sex fiends). But I really wanted to rid myself of the constant reminders of all the changes that had happened lately; things that had taken our already highly complicated lives and transformed them into unholy messes.

 

With a snort I went back to contemplating the glass of scotch sitting in front of me. I’d pinched the bottle from Mr. Hawkins “For-Company” liquor cabinet. Didn’t think he’d notice, hadn’t seen him drink- ever. Unlike my father, who only drinks _manly_ (not to mention cheap) beer and quite a bit of it. Not the best stuff to get well and truly wasted on. Plus, I didn’t want my old man noticing me anytime soon.

 

Had to admit though for a poisonous substance scotch was pretty; the high intensity light I use for my work warmed and reflected its amber glow. Still, I didn’t know if I could take the first sip.

 

But oh, how I wanted to. I craved the oblivion it offered. Honest to God, I just wanted to cease thinking. Forget everything. Make it all stop. Be one with the frickin’ universe long enough that I could leave this hell on earth. Television told me that this was a good way to go about it. If many a hard bitten, but still strikingly handsome, cop could drown their mental screams at a local bar it should work for me too.

 

I’d briefly considered this step before. My brain hadn’t ever fully shut off since my exposure to the gas supercharged it. When I felt like screaming to drown out the stampede of ideas battering my skull there was certainly an appeal to the idea of getting stupid drunk.

 

Still, I’d managed to work through it without resorting to what I felt might become a crutch. I fear if I crawl into the bottle maybe I won’t be able to find my way out.

 

This was the last straw though. I couldn’t take it anymore. I closed my eyes on my tears. _Why? What, was I Marquis de Sade in a previous life?_ Wet and painful breaths clogged my throat.

 

 _Damn Alva to the depths of hell. It was **all** his fault_. If the morally bankrupt billionaire hadn’t made that machine to revive his pigeon perch of a son I wouldn’t have developed this damn Empathy and my heart wouldn’t be breaking into a million pieces. 

 

At first I didn’t realize what I was feeling. But slowly, despite my denials, I found myself facing a horrifying conclusion.

 

One, I doubted my strength to survive.

 

For a while I knew something was different…was wrong. Vee was just a hair slower to touch me, just enough that I noticed the hesitation. Hell, what was worse and more damning proof was his emotions were jumbled and un-him like. I may love him but Vee’s usually a point A to B guy. 

 

So, finally I decided -for his own good- to pry into our connection. I had tried not to consciously use it before, it felt like an invasion. In fact in general I’d been trying not to use any aspect of my new power. At first I thought it would be just another asset from the Bang but it made me feel like a peeping tom.

 

 

In the end it took a few days to analyze the input I was receiving. I’ve discovered emotions don’t come with instructions and detailed diagrams.

 

My conclusion, after several samplings, was that whenever we were together Vee felt confused and ashamed- and damn it to hell- like he was in love. _Oh, if only that were true._

 

But he wasn’t, not really. My best friend was only feeling my love for him through our blasted link. Not realizing this, boneheaded Vee figured they were his own, just as I sometimes couldn’t separate myself from outside emotions.

 

 _Confused and ashamed, man do I feel that now_ Vee was suffering from gay impulses pushed on him by the man who was supposed to protect him. He didn’t know what to do with that and I was hurting him. And I was hurting me.

 

 _Fuck it._ With one swift move I grabbed the glass and knocked it back. Immediately the world tilted 35 degrees then swung back 180. I blinked a few times but that didn’t improve the situation, in fact suddenly it was fuzzying around the edges. Someone knocked my glasses off. Then I remembered I didn’t need them anymore. Things were graying out.  My last thoughts were, _Well, this works too_.

 

(Virgil Pov)

 

Hopefully, I said something that made sense to Sharon before I rushed out the door. Yet, for all I know in my panic I knocked her out cold and she’s taking an involuntary nap on the kitchen table.

 

Richie’s gone. From one heartbeat to the next the piece of his soul connected to mine was snuffed out. I never feel as much from it as I know Richie must from me. Its not my power after all. Mostly I receive vague impressions, but its there all the time as a sort of warm spot. Even when Richie sleeps I feel his presence in my mind. To have Richie suddenly removed… He had to be dead.

 

 _Oh, God he can’t be dead. He’s not dead. Oh, God he’s dead._ My mind kept looping those sentences in hamster wheel panic mode. 

 

How I managed to get to our hideout I also haven’t a clue. One minute I was in my kitchen, the next I was breaking down our door. My worst fears seemed to be confirmed when I saw the limp body crumpled on the cold concrete.

 

However, before I could loose the wail of anguish that had been building in my chest since that first horrible moment of emptiness I spied a tipped over bottle of alcohol resting on the workbench. Taking a second look at Richie I could tell that he had simply slipped to the right and fallen off his favorite stool. Luckily, it was a short and unobstructed fall; he lay in a awkward heap on his right side legs akimbo.

 

I choked out a sobbing laugh of relief. Rushing over to my unconscious - _Not dead-_ friend I knelt and touched Richie’s alcohol flushed face. Its warmth reassured me even more than the red cheeks.

 

Lying on the cold floor was my best friend in this world. I know him better than I know myself. And I knew how this had happened.

 

Richie is not one to face his problems head on. He likes to linger in denial for a while. I knew he hadn’t looked at the research I had given him about psychic abilities. It was a risk but I didn’t want to force him. He’d been handling this new power by ignoring it as far as I could tell. I tried to bring it up a few times but Richie brushed me off.

 

With a sigh that turned into a grunt I lifted my friend bridal style from his hard and cold resting place. Richie’s deep even breath tickled the side of my throat where his head was tucked in close. Swallowing, I considered the one common thread amongst some of the questionable facts in that research was that alcohol acts as a psychic suppressant. In fact many self medicate with it to nullify abilities. Conversely, it was stated that caffeine is good for buoying a psychic who has drained themselves.

 

 _At least I know that the alcohol bit is accurate._ Actually, it made a lot of sense that it had knocked him out. After all, between being empathic and his hyper intelligence Richie’s entire brain was probably psychic-ly charged. Disrupt that energy and instant shut off. I swallowed thickly. _Christ it could have killed him._ I shivered unnerved by that very real possibility.

 

Worry renewed, I gently placed Richie on his side on the den couch. After shifting my sleeping beauty’s body around like a big limp doll- not as easy as TV makes it look- so that he would be comfortable when he woke. I couldn’t resist giving his cheek a brief caress.

 

Baby soft. The fine hairs and downy skin begged for a further petting but instead I pulled my hand away. My pants were already feeling uncomfortably tight. _I will not molest my friend while he is unconscious._

 

With a heavy sigh I sat on the coffee table. I almost sat on my hands to remove temptation. But that was too childish even for me.

 

Gazing at the lax features of one’s love is supposed to bring joy and happiness to one’s heart, at least it does in all the romance tales. But in reality, looking at Richie, mostly I felt a deep worry.

 

I thought he was getting better. I thought we both were- nightmares not withstanding. What was so bad now that Richie was desperate enough to try and get drunk? If this had happened a month ago I wouldn’t really have been surprised. But now? And why wasn’t he talking to me about it? Throughout everything Richie had clung to me like static cling. Even though I suspected he was avoiding everyone else he’d never flinched from me. 

 

A voice deep inside whispered. _Maybe he never did recover. Maybe Richie had put on a mask even for you and could just no longer maintain it under the crush of his pain._ The thought that I’d failed him so badly that he thought booze was the answer made my heart feel as if Ebon was crushing it in his hand.

 

（Richie’s POV）

 

Waking up was the worst thing I’d ever experienced. The pain that throbbed from behind my eyes was bouncing around my skull. No bouncing wasn’t right; it was more like someone had used a grapefruit spoon to peel every single one of the nerve endings in my head. Even the ones in my teeth. I hadn’t felt this awful when my appendix burst and I was sliced open like a loaf of French bread or when Alva’s easy bake oven was literally sucking the life from me to revive his fruitcake of a son.

 

Groaning in pain I reached for my pillow to smother myself and end it all. Disconcerted when I couldn’t find it I opened my eyes.

 

 _Bad. Bad. Bad._ I corrected that mistake as soon as possible. As payment for the stabbing pain, I’d gotten a quick and fuzzy glimpse of Vee and our crappy HQ den.

 

I heard a soft curse and some rustling, and then Vee pressed what felt like a couple of pills in my hand. Silently thanking god， I quickly dry swallowed them. The feeling of hard little pills moving slowly down my esophagus was a joyful addition to my misery.

 

“Jeez Richie, there’s water too.” The dewy glass was shoved into my hand and I gulped it down. _Ambrosia._ I hadn’t realized how dry my mouth was; in comparison with the pain I was feeling it had been a minor annoyance. With it gone and my stomach no longer protesting its emptiness, I felt less like my brain matter was going to paint the walls any minute.

 

As we sat in silence my mind reminded me of the how and why I came to be suffering from what I had to assume was my first hangover. I felt like snorting but didn’t want to knock my brains around any more than they already had been. _I did a Doc Brown. How pathetic_. There would definitely be no college drinking parties for me. Less than a finger full and I was on the floor. At least it was a weakness that would be hard for villains to take advantage of.

 

 _And it did work. I forgot for a while_. Bitterly, I knew that even the pain was doing its best to comply with my initial goal. It was hard to think of anything right now. But that fogginess was fading as the painkillers kicked in.

 

Virgil, who had been sitting still and quiet, chose that moment to speak a rush of half demanding half pleading nonsense, “Richie. We need a professional. I’ve been thinking and I’m sure the Bat can come up with a psychologist who we can trust.”  

 

Incredulously my eyes popped open, “What?!” That was the last thing I expected to hear. I thought that Vee would lecture me for drinking, for stealing from his dad, I don’t know for making him worry. Not starting to talk a about shrink.

 

He looked me squarely in the eye, “Richie, I found you passed out drunk. Cry. For. Help.”

 

Blushing, I struggled to get up. “I’m fine. Besides considering his issues you think Batman knows a good shrink. Hah.” I managed to get vertical but had to remain sitting so the world would level out again. My pain was fading a lot more rapidly than I would have expected. _Figures, I get drunk quick, hangover quick, and then gone quick._  

 

“I didn’t say he used them.” Vee grabbed my arm. “Richie…” I shook him off rising to my feet still not looking at him. I got to get out of here. I could feel his emotions pressing in on me again as the pain diminished. His worry, hurt, and dammitall love tore at my vitals.

 

He didn’t let it go, following me to the door. “NO. You can’t go. We need to come up with a solution. Things are obviously not getting better-” He grabbed my arm again. Touch amplifies things, I know that. But the shock of his feelings hit me again. This time I turned and shoved him away and then kept shoving Virgil until he hit the wall. Every time my hands touched him I got more and more enraged as I was tortured by what I desperately wanted but was just a mirage.

 

“Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.” I cried. “Stop pushing me, stop touching me, and stop feeling that.” I hadn’t meant to go so far. I halted when I saw the look on his face.

 

(Virgil’s POV)

 

 _No. I tried so hard…_ My whole body turned to lead with shock and horror. Richie knew. He knew and that’s why he’d drunk himself into a coma. I’d wrecked him. And now I was looking at his back because he couldn‘t even face me.

 

“I never meant to-” _Stop it, your intentions don’t matter._ I swallowed despite the fact that my mouth felt like it was filled with glue. This was going to be my only shot to fix this. I could feel it in the air. If I couldn’t then our friendship, our future, would be over. I wish he would just turn around.

 

Softly and with all the sincerity I could muster I began, “Before anything else Richie we’re friends. As your friend I want you to be happy; and well. So much has happened and I didn’t want to burden you or pressure you. When exactly my feelings for you changed, I don’t know....” I shrugged helplessly.

 

“But when I was in the future and found out we were still partners I never even questioned it. You’re always there, you always will be.” Even though he wasn’t looking I gestured at my side where Richie always belongs.

 

“On Alva’s shit-hole island I almost lost you. And I realized that I would kill anyone who got in my way of getting you back.” Better left unsaid is the fact that I had committed manslaughter when someone had threatened his sanity.

 

“You are the person I look to with my problems and my joys. The first person I want to tell everything. But as soon as I realized that I loved you I knew I couldn’t tell you this. I’ve seen how you’ve pulled away from everything and everyone lately- except me. Maybe you would have felt obligated; maybe it would have scared you. I didn’t know, but as your friend I couldn’t risk it. How could I? God, Richie don’t let this destroy you.” I closed my eyes in pain and swallowed the lump trying to keep the words in, “I don’t want to leave you to stand alone but if you want me to I will. Please don’t make me, I swear I can control myself. I won’t touch you at all.” I took a deep breath to stop my babbling. Looking up I saw that Richie was staring at me with the oddest of looks on his face.

 

“Shut up,” Richie’s voice was firm but quiet. Then he grabbed my shirt with both hands and pulled. Surprised, I stumbled right into his chest. In the next moment his lips crashed into mine.

 

As kisses go this one started out pretty crappy, my lips were smashed into my teeth nicking against my upper incisor. I even tasted blood briefly. Thankfully, Richie rapidly let up on the pressure. That’s when it got good. Soft and warm gently brushing, tingling. Richie didn’t seem to know what to do past that point, not a huge surprise we’ve talked about every kiss and grope I’ve ever had but he’s had nothing to share. Richie’s hands were clenching and unclenching in my shirt. Gently, using the tip of my tongue I stroked his sealed lips trying to get him to open up. 

 

(Richie’s POV)  

 

As a scientist I should know better than to make assumptions. My hypothesis- based on the observed phenomena of my best friend’s actions- was predicated upon the faulty supposition that he was heterosexual. However, I had believed this to be a working theory based on observations of behavior from pre-pubescent to present time. (I.e. Kimmy, Felicia, Daisy, and Miss-Camp-Slut Tanya.)

 

Obviously, Vee wasn’t as blinded by his preconceptions because my best friend had just spewed forth a rather rambling and heartbreaking speech that definitely showed a conscious recognition of his feelings. He’d acknowledged and analyzed them. 

 

That’s what made me realize exactly how wrong I’d been. I wasn’t being tormented by a mirage.

 

If Vee was being forced to endure emotions not of his own making, then upon contemplation he would have come to the conclusion that they were not originating from his own psyche. Conversely, denial -the state I believed Vee resided in- would have made it easy for him to stay confused and conflicted. But he’d babbled out disclaimers and begged me. There is a God and maybe he doesn’t love me, considering the past few months, but he’s giving me a leg over. Vee’s gay. For me.

 

So like any guy I decided I’d had enough of talking about my feelings. Grabbing my man I engaged in my first ever kiss. It wasn’t fairy tale perfect with fireworks and choruses singing. In fact at first it felt a bit like slamming face first into a wall (something I have done before).

 

Thankfully, my (easy) friend knew his way around a kiss. Tongue on tongue feels so much different from any other sensation. I got the full on experience with Vee trying to taste every one of my taste buds for himself.

 

If this was a movie this would be the part where we would madly scramble towards the bed - or in this case the couch- shedding clothes in a flurry of lust, but life doesn’t follow a script. Nor does it have the benefit of soft lighting and a foreshadowing sound track.

 

Every inch of me was singing hosannas, except... I tore my lips away and buried my head into Vee’s neck, “God, I love you. I’ve loved you my whole life but,” I thrust my hips forward grinding into the hot and hard erection I’d felt digging into my hip - emphasizing the lack of the same on my part. His hips involuntarily stuttered a bit, in response to the stimulation I guess, because he then stiffened. Our connection communicated his confusion and discomfort at being the only one with a woody.

 

“Nothing is happening,” frustration and embarrassment made me blurt, “nothing has been happening since- what happened” A whole lot of nothing. My balls are turning purple.

 

Vee’s stance softened a little. I could feel his “ah” moment breaking through the heady fog of lust when he got it. There was a touch of pity as well as longing mixed in with it. While part of me bristled at the pity, I could definitely get behind the longing. Wistfully, I wished I wasn’t so damaged. 

 

His lips brushed my temple in a soft kiss. “It’s ok. It’s normal with- trauma.” His embrace transformed into more of a hug as I felt him letting go of the passion I had so enjoyed rousing in him, “But its one of the things, I think having a professional to help us out with, we could talk to, no pressure- would be good.”

 

Helpless laughter bubbled out of me, “You are such a guy, you’ll do anything to get into my pants.”

 

Vee sputtered pulling away so I had to look up into his face. But his affronted, “Hey!” was full of amusement. “We haven’t been together for ten minutes and you’re calling me a pig. Thirty years from now I expect you’ll be calling me a dirty old man.”

 

Warmed by the prediction of our long future I pulled him close again. “If the leer fits.” I snorted again. “I can’t believe you asked me to marry you after telling me I needed my head shrunk.”

 

His voice was full of wonderment, “I kind of did, didn’t I?” He gave me a quick peck on the lips. “Mean it though. You and I will be together through the good times and the tough times. Just cause its rocky now doesn’t mean we won’t have a bright future.” Teasingly he said, “I’ll love you even when you’re stomach gets in the way of us kissing.”

 

“VIR-GIL!”

 

The End


End file.
